Those Awkward Moments
by stayathomemum
Summary: Tony and Angela, two single people living together must have had their share of embarrassing moments. I'm sure there's at least one per season. Rating T Plus for suggestive sexual situations.
1. Bubble Bath Fallout

**Introduction**

**Author's Note:** I need to have some fun with these characters. My latest story_, Family (The Sequel to Surprises)_ has become quite dramatic and serious. I'm not in a dramatic and serious mood right now. Summer's here, and along with the warm weather, the winter doldrums are beginning to lift.

I was thinking that Tony and Angela must have had embarrassing moments living together, beyond the bathtub incident. A man and a woman sharing a house platonically is not a marriage. The inherent intimacy and comfort-level associated with marriage is missing for our dear Tony and Angela. I mean, are they even allowed to burp in the house? How do they navigate uncomfortable situations? He's a man and she's a woman—they are roomies who started out as strangers and boss/employee. Very discomfiting. How do their children handle it when they're forced to share a bathroom? What about Mona's sexual behavior, taking place above the garage? Surely the little players in this play must have had more than their average share of humiliating and horrible experiences. What were they, and what happened afterwards?

Curious? Me too. Now, shall I come up with one such moment, and take a wee break from _Family_? Just a quick one-shot to entertain myself (and you) tonight. Maybe I'll come up with something new tomorrow. **I'm open to suggestions, so please PM me if you have ideas for embarrassing family/couple moments, things you've wondered about. **One per season?

**Awkward Moment One, Bubble Bath Aftermath: (Season One) **

Tony and Samantha had been living at the Bower house for a full month and were settling in quite comfortably. After the initial shock of leaving Brooklyn and starting a brand new life in Connecticut, the pair had landed in paradise. Samantha loved her new school; instead of a fenced in concrete surface, she now had grassy playground with trees. Never had a sixth grader been so happy to ditch the tough New York City school metal detectors. The eleven-year old was determined to do her best not to screw this up. And she valiantly hoped that her Dad wouldn't mess it up either. Sometimes it made her nervous because Mrs. Bower was kinda uptight. She didn't want her Dad to accidentally offend. Good thing the kid didn't know about the bathtub incident one week ago. She would have been packing her suitcases, and calling Mrs. Rossini to come get her in the fish truck.

As for Tony, he was trying his damned best too. He couldn't have found a better job had he gone looking. He'd almost dismissed Mona and her crazy idea that he work as a housekeeper. A housekeeper? He still felt weird about his job title, especially when it concerned his Brooklyn pals and all the shit they were talking about him. Philly and PeeWee were saying that he'd gone soft—he was a gigolo—he was a maid in an apron … yeah, he'd show them a maid in an apron.

No matter what, Tony knew he had made the right decision, both for his daughter's well-being and for himself. He could finally spend time with Samantha, and send her to a great school, while living in this amazing house among the manicured lawns. Besides, little eight-year old Jonathan needed him too. The poor kid was rapidly veering toward _wimphood_, _geekdom_, and _dorkworld_. Tony had arrived just in time to prevent this catastrophe. And his mom was pretty terrific too.

Actually, Angela intimidated him quite a bit. He'd never known such a successful and intelligent woman. And not bad looking either, he smirked to himself, remembering how she had looked stepping out of that bath. It had been an entire week since the embarrassing incident but Tony couldn't get the intrusive image of 'naked Angela' out of his mind's eye. She was a woman he could never, ever have, and well the grass is greener on the other side. Several times a day, he found himself replaying the memory, dwelling on the curve of her hip, the perkiness of her breasts, her never ending legs and what was between them. He'd allow himself the indulgence for small moments at a time before guilt took over and slapped him upside the head, reminding him to dust, vacuum and cook. "She's your boss … she's your boss … she's your boss …," guilt chanted over and over again in his head. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Micelli," he chided himself. Tony the healthy, young male and Tony the employee were warring inside of his head, each with compelling points to make. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of fantasy," said horny, young male Tony. It wasn't easy for a thirty-two year old Italian hunk to sublimate his sexual desire while sharing a house with an attractive young woman. Success and money aside, she was just a girl, after all. No, not girl, woman. All woman. Guilt slugged him again and his thoughts changed to 'Dust, vacuum, cook, clean, distract!' That was the name of the game, distract.

Angela had no idea that her bathtub exit had so perturbed and aroused her new employee and almost-friend. Sure, his intrusion had completely freaked her out! She'd never been so humiliated in her entire life, and that included the time she had fallen down the stairs sans her prom dress.

But, she didn't want to appear uptight or prudish, so she'd let the bathtub incident slide. It had been an accident after all. Besides, Tony and his lovely little girl were such a wonderful addition to her empty house and life. Jonathan appeared to worship the ground Tony and Sam walked on. He hung onto every word Tony said and imitated him as much as possible. It was cute, and her son really did need a strong, male influence. Tony was nothing if not strong, and … male. Jonathan and Samantha had also hit it off, especially after their escape to Brooklyn. Her son was happy again, and he was behaving now, obeying Tony. She wished he'd obey her more, but she'd take what she could get. Tony was a wonderful father and Michael was an ass, so she'd made a more than equitable trade-up for Jonathan. She'd just sent the divorce papers to Michael's employer, the Geography Documentary Institute he worked for. And if she had her way, that divorce would be final by early 1985. Her life was in order again, and she had two wonderful new people to share it with.

Humming as she made her way into the house, Angela was unaware that Tony was having typical male-related internal struggles. Had she known that he was both tormented and bewitched by the memory of her nude body, Angela Bower would have ducked tail and gone running to her Mother. She would have hidden out in the bathroom and never come out again. She would have needed extra Martinis, butter brittle ice-cream and worn a big tent-like Mu-Mu. Happily oblivious, she entered her living room through the front door just in time to overhear Tony muttering to himself, "Oh man, I gotta stop thinking about those legs and tits." The revelatory words had simply spilled out of his mouth as Angela entered the house. Both were shocked to see the other. Tony went beet red and Angela felt her knees go weak.

"Excuuuuse me?" Angela whispered in horror.

Tony had to think fast. Brooklyn had taught him to think on his feet, so he called upon his _powers of the rough neighbourhood_, with desperation.

As casually as he could and with as much confidence as he could muster, he set down his feather duster. "Just talkin' to myself. Was thinkin' that I gotta stop thinking, and actually get to the store to buy some _eggs_ and _taters._" Tony silently begged her to believe him.

"Eggs and taters?" she asked in disbelief.

"Uh, yeah, for potato latkes," he threw in for good measure. Tony had no idea how to prepare this Jewish staple, but he figured that Angela wouldn't know the difference if he simply fried mashed potatoes into eggs.

"Latkes?" Angela wondered if she'd heard wrong. He couldn't have said 'legs and tits' … no, no, no, that wouldn't make any sense. But Tony speaking aloud his grocery list would certainly be in keeping with his job, she reasoned.

He stared at her, willing her to believe him. She stared back, hoping he was telling the truth. For a split second, their lives hung in the balance. If he screwed this up, it might be the evening train back to Brooklyn for him and Sam.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then," she told him. "I'd love to try your, er, potato latkes." Angela exhaled in relief, wondering why her legs were still shaking as she made her way up the stairs to the relative safety of her bedroom.

Tony sat on the couch and chuckled to himself. "Yeah, I'd like to sample your _eggs_ and _taters_ someday."

Crisis averted.


	2. It didn't happen one night

**Awkward Moment Number Two (Season 2): It Happened One Summer** (actually "it" did not happen, but why quibble about an episode title?)

Angela tried to remain as still as possible in the tiny narrow bed she was now sharing with Tony. Each wearing only one half of a shared pyjama and squashed so closely against each other-sleep was impossible. Besides, her mind was still reeling from the knowledge that Tony … Tony had been her first kiss! It had been one unforgettable kiss, the one that had awoken womanly desires within her for the first time. Her first kiss was also the first time she'd ever felt that aching need for a man. _Anthony_ and _Ingrid_—she couldn't stop thinking about them, about herself, about him. Those two children, now grown up had found each other. Angela couldn't help but think of herself in the third person, because if she dared let her thoughts drift, she was likely to maul her sleeping buddy.

She could feel the heat of his bare skin radiating against her and felt her desire stir within, like a caressing wind … no, not a caressing wind … a bloody tornado. Angela valiantly wished that her panties hadn't been soaked by the rain. She'd washed her underthings in the bathroom sink, hoping they'd be dry by tomorrow morning. But right now, she was very conscious of not letting her short pyjama top ride up and kept fidgeting with it, yanking it down, compulsively tugging at the red flannel.

"Stop movin' around so much!" Tony admonished her. Angela's sharp elbows had connected painfully with his ribs one too many times. She was too close to him and he couldn't sleep either. Besides, it was hot and stifling in the small bed. At least the hole in the ceiling provided some fresh air, and it had finally stopped raining. Light thunder still rumbled in the distance and Tony wondered if the rest of the ceiling would cave and kill them in their sleep.

"Sorry, Tony."

"We're never gonna fall asleep at this rate," Tony complained. Yeah, no kidding. How could he fall asleep with_ Ingrid_ in his bed? If Angela knew how many times he'd replayed that first kiss, how he'd memorized it and fantasized about it, adding to the story over the years. He'd never, ever forget that moment, because that's when he had finally understood what all the fuss was about—the love songs, the movies and the way men turned stupid around pretty girls. Sure, Ingrid had been a bit awkward, but that was her charm. He was never one to like cookie-cutter, bland women. Even at eleven (okay, almost twelve, but he was having too much fun with that one . . . in reality, he was only a year and two months younger than Angela), he'd liked special girls, different ones, ones that mattered. And he still did. _Anthony_ still fancied _Ingrid._ Fancied? No, he was hot for her.

Tony turned to face away from her. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could pretend he was alone. There, Tony liked to sleep on his side, with his legs curled up. His feet accidentally brushed against Angela's smooth legs. He took a deep breath and lowered them. This time, they landed on her warm toes. His pulse quickened and he tried to resist the urge … he really tried but he couldn't. His feet sensuously slid up her calves, then up to her knees. The softness of her skin against the soles of his feet was a delicious sensation. He'd missed having a woman in his bed.

Angela pulled away from Tony. Was he playing footsies with her? Or was he simply trying to get comfortable? She didn't want to chastise him because she'd been guilty of elbowing him only moments earlier. She looked at his strong bare back and choked down the potent craving of wanting to press her lips against his shoulder. It was insane how badly she wanted to wrap her arms around his waist and press her face into him. She wanted to inhale his scent and stroke her long fingers down his muscled torso. She wanted to place tiny kisses all along his arms and neck. Angela inadvertently let out a tiny whimper of desire, one that wasn't lost on Tony. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to shut his ears as well. This was torture. He ached to touch her, to make love to her, but they'd agreed not to do anything stupid tonight. Together they'd decided not to risk their friendship. Tony shifted uncomfortably in the bed and unintentionally bumped into Angela's side.

That was too much for her—she needed to move away and get some space. Angela misjudged the size of the bed, and so when she rolled away from him, she continued to roll, right off the bed. She landed on the floor with a loud thud, scraping her arm against the night table on the way down.

"Aie," she cried.

"Angela? Are you okay?" Alarmed, Tony turned on the side lamp to see what was going on.

The light revealed her to be on all fours, clumsily trying to stand up. Her pyjama top had ridden up, and her rounded behind stared up at him in all of its glory. Tony tried to be a gentleman and close his eyes, but it took him a few moments before he had the presence of mind to do so. First, he had to close his gaping mouth and draw his tongue back in.

Feeling a draft at her backside, Angela frantically yanked at her shirt. The light had startled her, and Tony was facing her with his eyes screwed shut. She couldn't help but notice two bright red spots appear on his otherwise olive complexion.

"Oh my god, I've just mooned you," she gasped in horror and shame.

"No, no, no, I didn't see a thing," Tony lied. "Here, let me help you up." With his eyes half shut, he blindly made his way toward her. Before she could protest, he was at her side, one eye open as though winking at her obscenely. She had covered up but was in an awkward position on the floor, trapped between the bed and the side table, unable to get up. She flipped onto her back, but not before accidentally flashing Tony's open eye. This time, it was the dark side of the moon that he glimpsed. Thankfully, Angela was blissfully unaware—her focus centred on getting up without scraping her arm on the way back up. She gratefully accepted Tony's hand.

Tony was quietly beginning to hyperventilate. His body was in overdrive and responding without his permission. As Angela began to stand, she found herself nose to … well, _not nose_ with Tony. He was saluting her beauty, his desire very apparent and big. Angela gulped and turned her head away embarrassed. How were they ever going to make it through this night without ripping off the stupid red flannel and having at it? No, no, no, they couldn't risk their friendship for one night of lust. Or could they? In his own humiliation, Tony let go of Angela's hand and covered the proof of his passion. Angela lost her balance and bumped her head on the night table.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry … Angela? Dammit, Angela, come back here!" Somehow Angela had managed to scramble up, and in her panic, had locked herself in the bathroom. She leaned against the closed door and took ragged breaths to steady herself. Now, she knew how much he wanted her too. She jumped when he began knocking on the door.

"Angela?" _knock knock_ "Angela? Don't be like this. It was … nothing. I'm a guy. You know that stuff happens to us all the time. Well maybe not _all_ the time …" he began to ramble.

"Do you have a point?" Angela blushed and covered her mouth. She really needed to watch her words.

"Ah, um, yes. I need to use the bathroom. Please come out." Tony did need to use the bathroom. He needed to take care of his saluting soldier right now, before something even more embarrassing happened to him.

The doorknob slowly turned and Angela opened the door a fraction. She peeked out, her anxious eyes meeting his guilty ones. Tony did feel guilty because he'd seen a side of her that he'd never seen before and he'd somehow managed to humiliate her so badly that she was hiding from him. Damn.

"Just let me in, please," he begged. "Into the bathroom, that is." Tony was now blushing as furiously as Angela. He turned away from her and allowed her to exit, eyes unmolested.

In the bathroom, Tony did what he needed to do, his back against the door, where Angela's had been seconds ago. From the bed, she tried to ignore the occasional thumping against the door. The walls in this place were thin. Half of the ceiling was missing and the bathroom door might as well have been cardboard. Angela certainly had no illusions as to what Tony was doing in the bathroom. In a way, she was flattered. Then again, she was also ridiculously disappointed to not be sharing in the experience with him. She needed her own release too. But that would have to wait—she just couldn't, not when he was right there and liable to come out any second. Angela shook her head, feeling sorry for the entire male race. Women could hide these things, suppress them, and make them go away. Guys might as well have flagpoles in their pants. Well, Tony pretty much did. Angela allowed herself to dwell on him for a moment, but abruptly shut down her thoughts when the bathroom door opened.

Tony came out looking a lot more calm, and relaxed. He was tired now, and having handled the situation as best he could, he wanted to sleep. He walked over to his side of the bed and quietly slipped in.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I'm fine," was the terse reply.

"Listen Angela, I'm sorry … I'm sorry that your PJ's rode up. And I'm really sorry that I pitched a tent. We didn't do any of that stuff on purpose … it just sorta happened. Can we forget about it? Please?"

Silence.

"Angela? Come on, don't be like that. Our friendship is important—really important. That's the only reason why we didn't, er, take things to the next level. It was really hard." Tony cringed at his words. "Angela, I just want us to be okay." He turned his face toward hers on the pillow.

"It's okay," she whispered. "Anthony and Ingrid had a little misadventure. Had nothing to do with us. Good night, Tony."

He was off the hook. Tony smiled to himself. The sexually charged evening had certainly revved things up a notch between them. Maybe one day … maybe one day. "'Night Ing, er, Angela."

"Good night … Anthony," she whispered to herself. He heard her and grinned.

_**Author's Note: Okay dear reader, that's two awkward moments in two nights for you. Yes, my evenings were particularly boring but I'm about to get busy. Get your minds out of the gutter. I've got work and school and parenting responsibilities. Anyway, after my homework and work work, I'll be back to pen a third installment. As for my story, Family, gosh . . I don't even remotely feel like working on it. Any takers? Kidding. **_


	3. Across the wall (Semi Private Lives)

**Awkward Moment Three, (Season 3, **_**Semi-Private Lives**_**)**

_Author's Note: What exactly occurred at the Fairfield Inn when Tony and Angela occupied adjacent rooms? Several of you PM'd me to suggest that very episode for my next "awkward moment". _

_I tried to think of when Tony and Tanya could have been a couple. Tony mentioned to Angela that he went to high school with Tanya, so I'm going to assume that they were lovers before Tony met Marie. And here we go …. Have fun! _

_And a thank you to MsBowerMicelli for her valuable input. _

In a swanky suite at the Fairfield Inn, Tanya Stromboli waited on the bed in anticipation of a sexual detonation. She couldn't believe her luck! Tony Micelli had called her out of the blue to reconnect on the very same day that her final divorce papers had arrived in the mail. She was definitely in a celebratory mood. And who better to celebrate with, than her former high school boyfriend? Their teenaged passion had been explosive back then, and they'd nicknamed themselves T&T for the fireworks they created every single time.

Clad only in a sexy red negligee, Tanya was posing in the most seductive way she knew how. "Toooony," she called out, her voice hoarse and horny. Tony was on the balcony, taking entirely too long collecting firewood. Tanya wanted him, now. "Tony!"

Tony fumbled with the firewood and dropped a log on his big toe. He'd just conversed with Angela over the balcony wall and was completely discombobulated by the surprise meeting. The heavy piece of wood smashing onto his foot snapped him back to reality. He took a deep breath and re-entered the suite. "Madonna mi," he exclaimed at the sight awaiting him.

"You like," Tanya purred. "Put those logs in the fire … then you can take care of my fire … with your log," she snickered. Tony wanted to roll his eyes—how juvenile, how tacky, how Brooklyn of her to say that. He was certain that Angela would never say anything so crass about sex. With Angela, it wouldn't just be sex-it would be 'making love', and Tony knew that she'd be just as classy and elegant in the sack as she was in every other aspect of her life. He glanced over at the wall, wondering what was going on behind it and wishing he could magically teleport and trade places with Geoffrey.

Tanya noticed Tony's interest waning. "Tony? Tony?" She got off the bed and rudely snapped her fingers in front of Tony's face. "Is there a spider on the wall or somethin'? I'm over here." To emphasize her point, Tanya slipped her negligee's spaghetti straps down her shoulders, seductively teasing Tony with her pushed-up cleavage. "The girls are waitin'," she giggled with forced nonchalance, trying to squash her growing feeling of insecurity. While she was certain of what she wanted, she wondered at Tony's bewildered expression. 'It's not complicated, Tony,' she wanted to say.

"Uh, I gotta … gotta … use the little boy's room," Tony announced suddenly. He practically bolted away from Tanya and made a quick dash into the bathroom.

Tanya stared at him in disbelief. He'd barely glanced at her lace-covered breasts. She was not pleased, not one bit. Fine, if she needed to reel him in harder, then she would. Tanya had decided that she and Tony were going to have an explosive evening, and she was sure as hell going to make sure that they did.

Safe in the bathroom, Tony gulped down a glass of water and looked at himself in the mirror. He needed to figure out what to do next. Angela's surprise appearance over the wall had put a wrench in his plans, and in his libido.

Tony and Tanya had been together during their last year of high school, and it'd been fun—when he was seventeen, literally half a lifetime ago now. Tony scrutinized his reflection, pausing to look at his laugh lines. "I'm not seventeen anymore," he whispered to himself. At thirty-four, he felt foolish for trying to recapture his teen years. And for what? Because of Mona's judgement that his social life was boring? Well so what if it was? A thirty-four year old family man shouldn't be out gallivanting anyway. "Tooooony!" Tanya's calls were becoming insistent.

"Just a minute!" he shouted back, irritably. And that's when he heard them—Angela's mirthful giggles. Muffled but unmistakably hers. He could hear her through the wall, where the water pipes connected. Tony went completely still, and held his breath for a moment too long, then exhaled forcefully. He felt vaguely uncomfortable and nervous. He placed his hands on the edges of the sink and peered more closely at his reflection, suddenly feeling a bit guilty. Tony moved over toward the shared wall and lightly banged his forehead against it. He didn't know what to do next. A very willing sex partner was waiting for him in the next room, and he was hesitating … because of Angela? Angela wasn't hesitating. She was with Geoffrey.

This was not supposed to happen—he and Angela's lives weren't supposed to collide like this. He wondered if Fate had intervened once again, for it never ceased to put him and Angela in the most awkward of situations. Another high pitched giggle echoed through the wall, and this time Tony could hear inaudible words. Well, if Fate was doing this, then who was Tony to argue?

He grabbed the toothbrush cup and carefully placed it against the shared wall, so he could better hear his next door neighbours.

"Tony!" Tanya called him again.

"Hold on a sec … I'm, er, in the middle of something," he replied to her. "Just need a few minutes."

"Do you need any … help?" she called, un-dissuaded.

"No. Why don't you watch TV or somethin?" he suggested. Tony ignored Tanya's grumbling and concentrated on the events behind his bathroom wall. He placed his ear against the cup, amazed at how clearly he could hear.

"… _so incredibly sexy, you know that?" _

"_Oh, Geoffrey."_

"_Angela, are you alright? You seem kind of tense? More champagne?" _

"_Yes please. More. More. I didn't say stop. More, please. Thank you." _

Tony blinked in surprise. In his mind's eye, he could visualize Geoffrey filling Angela's glass to the very brim. Angela usually only sipped her champagne, but she was probably just as weirded out as he was about their meeting on the balcony.

"_Whoa, slow down, Angel. You can have more champagne, er, after." _

"_Sorry Geoffrey … I guess I'm just a bit nervous, it being our first time and all." _

"_You have nothing to be nervous about. I'll be very gentle and slow, I promise." _Rather than sounding like a lover, Geoffrey's tone was reminiscent of a parent soothing a terrified child about to be inoculated.

Tony strained to hear more, but things were quiet on the other side of the wall. He supposed they were kissing. Geoffrey was promising to be gentle and slow? Tony shook his head, knowing how he'd handle a nervous Angela. He'd use humor, and joke around with her to help her relax. They'd have fun in bed, laughing, teasing, exploring, and delighting in each other. Sex was supposed to be fun—Geoffrey made it sound like an ordeal. And a dull one, at that.

Tony wondered what Angela was wearing, picturing her in a silky, black negligee with lace trim. Yeah, lace, lots of it. In the quiet, he became lost in his own sensual reverie but was abruptly brought back to reality by the urgent sound of fast rhythmic creaking next door. 'What? Already? So much for foreplay,' he thought in surprise. 'You gotta warm up the engine first,' he mentally chided Geoffrey.

A slight feeling of nausea accompanied Tony's sense of resignation and defeat. He tried not to picture Geoffrey's lanky white body overtop Angela's perfect one, but the repugnant image came to him, unbidden. "Blech," he gagged. As if to torment him, Geoffrey let out one loud cry. Despite his revulsion, Tony strained to hear more but his neighbours had gone completely silent. No moans, no creaking, nothing. "That's it?" Tony asked the wall, incredulously. Why, Geoffrey hadn't even lasted two minutes. So much for going slow.

"_Are you alright, Sweetums?"_ Geoffrey sounded like a mother hen.

"_I'm fine."_ Angela couldn't keep the disappointment out of her terse reply.

"_But you didn't finish …" _

"_It's fine, really. It was … lovely." _

Tony could hear the strain in Angela's voice. In fact, she'd used that exact same tone when Tony had served her sardines. Angela hated sardines and had tried to hide her dismay. Sex with Geoffrey was like eating sardines? Ugh.

Tony had never, ever, ever ended things without first making sure his lady partner was satisfied. Even during his quick trigger teens, he'd always taken the time to pleasure the girl. If he was ever lucky enough to get Angela into bed, he'd sure as hell last longer than two minutes. And Angela would not sound like she'd just eaten sardines. Tony felt an absurd urge to comfort her, followed by an even stronger urge to bring her to orgasm. It was that desire coupled with his own jealousy that prompted Tony to begin fantasizing, until he was rather rudely interrupted.

"Tony, did you flush yasself down the toilet?" Tanya's harsh voice was like a slap in the face. She began knocking on the bathroom door. "You alive in there?" she screeched.

He opened the door and exited as calmly as he could. "A man's bathroom time is private," he reprimanded her.

"The king on his throne, huh?" Tanya rolled her eyes and made a face. "Well, now that you've dumped that load, you can take care of me!" Her words made Tony cringe. He'd forgotten how crude Tanya could be, and he much preferred Angela's discretion when it came to issues of toileting and bodily functions. She'd never commented on anything, not even the time he'd stunk up the hallway bathroom. And he was still embarrassed about that one. As such he'd cut onions and Gorgonzola out of his diet_

"Earth to Tony!" Tanya lifted her fingers toward Tony's nose, intending to snap them yet again. He caught her hand and pushed it down.

"Don't snap your fingers at me!"

"Whassa matter with you? Do you wanna do it or not? That's why we're here, ain't it?"

Tony looked at the woman standing before him; frizzy hair askew, pouting mouth and flared nostrils. She was pissed off, and he didn't want her. The thought of getting naked with Tanya turned him off—completely. She was crass, rude and slutty-looking. That'd been fine for him at seventeen but Tony had matured and his tastes had become more refined. He wanted elegant, sexy and mysterious. He wanted Angela.

"Uh, Tanya … maybe this was a mistake. I thought it would be a good idea but I'm not sure I wanna _." Tony left his sentence unfinished—he was trying to let her down gently.

"What?!"

"It's not you! It's me … I've, er, changed. I'm different now."

"You mean you're..." She couldn't bring herself to say it, but what else was she to think? She started to blurt out accusingly, but Tony cut her off before her mouth, Brooklynized as it was, even formed the first letter.

"Oh ay- you ain't sayin' what I think you're sayin'. 'Cause there ain't no way 'you' could accuse 'me' of switchin' teams..." He was gesturing wildly now; his manhood was at stake, called into question by a Brooklyn girl? Tony stood open-mouthed in disbelief.

"Well, ya don't seem to want it anymore," she quipped. "I mean, who wouldn't want this," she added, accentuating her curves for Tony's benefit.

Her accent thickened, and he snickered in disgust. Looking from Tanya to the wall that stood between him and Angela, he sighed resignedly. "I just don't want lasagna anymore. I want crème de la crème and tiramisu."

"Hey, I can be a tiramisu!" Tanya countered. "Of course … if you're not 'man' enough, I understand. Maybe what those guys been sayin' about you is true. Connecticut's turned you into a cream puff, Micelli."

"Ay-oh, oh-ay, a cream puff?!" Tony's very manly pride was being insulted—his Brooklyn cronies were questioning him and now this girl was telling him that he couldn't make it with her. A sudden fear slammed into his chest at the thought of Tanya telling his buddies that he couldn't do it. He'd be known as an impotent cream puff.

"Yeah, a cream puff," she taunted. She was getting Tony all riled up, usually a good thing before explosive sex. And that had been her goal all evening, after all. She wasn't about to be deterred because Tony wanted to wimp out. Hell, even if he had switched teams, she could get him to play on hers. That'd fix him. "Show me what you're made of, Tony. Prove to me that you ain't a cream puff. Come on … are you man enough?" Tanya slipped off her negligee in one fluid movement, and stood before Tony stark naked. She took a step toward him and held her breasts up to him.

"I'm man enough!" he growled. Even Tony had his limits and he'd reached them now. No further taunting or teasing was necessary. He'd have to be a monk to refuse this. His heart was pounding from both arousal and outrage. With no warning, he scooped Tanya off the floor and dumped her unceremoniously onto the bed, before giving in to his very manly urges. If that's how she wanted to play it, then he could show her.

"That's it, Tony … you're all man," she rasped.

Tony was lost in the moment. His eyes were closed and he was picturing himself with a very different partner; a classy blond one who hadn't been fulfilled tonight. He pretended he was with her, giving her what she needed and wanted. His fantasy overtook him, and when the centre of pleasure detonated in his belly, he cried out her name in sweet ecstasy. "Oh, oh, Angela … Angela!"

"Angela?"

"Uh, what?" Tony hadn't even realized what he'd said.

"You just called out 'Angela'! Your boss? You have a thing for your boss?" Tanya cried out in outrage. She whipped the bed sheet off the bed and hugged it protectively around her nude body.

"Calm down, will you? I didn't call out Angela. I said that you're an _angel_."

"Sure you did. You called her name out twice. I'm going home." Tanya was furious. No man of hers had ever called out another woman's name during sex, even when that man was another woman's husband. They always knew who they were with. This was inexcusable. She huffed and puffed and threw her clothes back on.

"Oh come on, Tanya. It's snowin' out. How are you gonna get back?"

"Same way I came. I'm takin' a cab back to … Angela's house and grabbin' my car. You got a lot of nerve using me while thinkin' about her."

"Well you're the one who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer," he retorted.

"Humph."

Tanya gathered her things and went into the hallway. Tony didn't prevent her from leaving. "Well at least you can't call me a cream puff no more," he shouted at her departing back.

"Maybe you ain't a cream puff, but you got the hots for a broad you can't have," she taunted. "Maybe you should tell this 'Angela' how badly you want to screw her so you can get it out of your system!" she screeched. "Cause callin' out another woman's name during sex is just plain bad manners! Don't call me again."

Tony slammed the door and went back to bed, alone.

Unbeknownst to him, Angela had overheard every word that Tanya had shouted in the hallway. She pulled slightly away from Geoffrey's sleeping form, her lips curling up in satisfaction. Angela smiled.


	4. Two on a Billboard and no toilet

**Awkward Moment Four, Season 4, Two On a Billboard**

_Author's Note: I couldn't help but wonder how Angela and Tony's night on that billboard turned out. A huge thanks to you wonderful readers who PM'd me, asking for this specific episode … so with no further ado, here is awkward moment number four. I love that you're reading and that you care enough to suggest moments you'd like to read! Four more to go after this. Think of episodes you'd want for future awkward moments (one per season), and please post them in the review section. Thanks! _

_P.S. I enjoyed watching __Two On a Billboard__ on Youtube today. Brought back good memories. I'd forgotten that little scene when Angela is glued to the billboard in terror, her knees giving way. LMAO. Sadly Youtube cut out the scene in the kitchen when Angela tells her mother she feels strange and Mona asks her if she's pregnant, then amends to ask, "No, how could that happen?" What a little gem—too bad it was cut._

_A thank you to VioletStella for giving me a second set of eyes. _

Angela was warm in the sleeping bag with Tony, and she'd finally managed to relax, at least a little bit. So long as she didn't look down, nor think about how many feet off the ground she sat. The acrophobia had surprised her and she was damned embarrassed about it. Unable to climb down a ladder? It was unseemly for a successful woman to suddenly transform into a scared little girl. What Tony must think of her, she cringed inwardly. If he thought less of her, however, he did not show it. Tony, the eternal comforter, friend and encourager, had made her feel welcome up on his windy little platform. His shoulder was her pillow, and the heat they generated together in the tight sleeping bag was keeping them cozy. She snuggled against him.

When he'd received that incredible job offer earlier, she'd been frightened of losing him, then relieved that he'd chosen to stay. And after the relief, a discomfiting sense of unease had plagued her-so much so, that she'd ended up in her current quandary—stuck on a billboard, unable to get down. She'd needed to speak with him and make sure he wasn't making a huge mistake that he'd regret one day. What she'd learned had surprised and thrilled her; Tony had no regrets, he'd chosen family over career. Angela seamlessly fit her body against his. She needed him. She loved him.

"Angela?" Tony gently lifted her head off of his shoulder.

"What's wrong, Tony? Were you uncomfortable?" she asked him. "I can move …"

"No, it's not that. I have to get out of the bag … nature's callin'," he told her.

"What?" she asked weakly. "Do I have to stand up?"

"Nah, I'm gonna unzip the bag and, er, well relieve myself over the edge there. Unfortunately, the tent blew away with, er, the so-called_ facilities_ inside of it."

"Oh, maybe it was a bad omen—the tent blowing away."

"Don't worry, Angela. Just stay as you are and I'll maneuver around you, okay?" Tony carefully unzipped the sleeping bag and stood up without disturbing Angela. "See? You're safe. Be right back." Tony took a few steps away from her and stood at the edge of the platform, unzipped his pants and peed over the ledge. "Really sorry about this, Ang," he said, his back to her. Tony was rather self-conscious about having to pee in such close proximity to Angela—she could hear the stream. But really, what choice did he have? The camera crews had been there all day, not affording him much privacy. He had to go. He also needed a good shower and shave, but that would have to wait. Bladders could not wait. When he was done, he zipped back up and returned to the sleeping bag. "Sorry about that, Angela."

"Stop apologizing, Tony. It's no big deal … well at least for you men. You can pretty much go anywhere, anytime … you're lucky." Angela's own bladder was rather full of that awful consommé she'd prepared. She squirmed uncomfortably now, wondering what to do. Unlike Tony, she couldn't simply stand, unzip and go. It would be much more awkward, and with her deathly fear of heights, possibly impossible.

"Heh heh … so what Freud said is true, eh? Women really do suffer from pen_," Tony stopped mid-sentence, wondering if he'd gone too far.

"Tony!"

"Sorry, just teasing. I didn't mean to offend …"

"Forget it. Forget it, because it's true. You men have it so easy."

"Easy? What, you think we have it easy because we can pee standing up?"

"Oh, so you don't have it easy?" she challenged him. "Compared to women, that is?"

"Come on, what's so bad about bein' a woman? Men worship the ground women walk on, and traditionally speakin', it's not usually the woman who brings home the bacon." Tony amended his statement to add, "at least not in Brooklyn. 'Course you and me are doin' things our own way."

Angela smiled at Tony's acknowledgement. "Actually, I think being a woman in Brooklyn would be harder. I haven't forgotten that Thanksgiving at Mrs. Rossini's—the women serving the men like slaves. Blech. And just because they don't 'bring home the bacon', doesn't mean they're not working, Tony. They have to do all the housework and parenting on their own too!"

"That's because there's not enough of me to go around," he said with a chuckle. "Looks like you and me have a case of role reversal. You bring home the bacon and I cook it. I guess in that respect, you're like the man in our relationship."

"I'm not a man," she replied, her voice terse. Angela wanted nothing more than for Tony to look upon her as a woman, and sometimes she wasn't so sure that he did. Boss, friend, confidante and parenting helper were her roles in their relationship. But woman? Sometimes Angela wondered if Tony saw her as an androgynous, sexless person. She also wondered if he knew that she was completely in love with him. Probably not, she mused. After all, she'd blown her chance to tell him, then lost her courage after that stupid street fair a few months back.

"You're not a man? Gee, thanks for that insight, Angela." Tony lowered himself beside her, unaware that he'd hurt her feelings. He flattened his half of the sleeping bag and carefully crawled back into it. "Well, I guess we should call it a night. I'm beat."

Angela could not sleep. She was annoyed by Tony's cavalier attitude toward her and felt somewhat unattractive in his eyes. She was hoping for Tony to pat his shoulder and invite her to rest upon it, and was disappointed when he began snoring. Men! So easy for them to fall asleep anywhere, anytime, and in any position. Angela shifted miserably in their warm bed but was unable to find a comfortable position. She couldn't sleep sitting up, especially with the cold wind blowing against her face. Her bladder was also too full, fuller than it'd been mere moments ago. Angela stared straight ahead, trying to disregard the building pressure in her lower abdomen, but the harder she tried to ignore it, the more it made her squirm. She closed her eyes, but between Tony's snores, the wind in her face and her now painfully full bladder, sleep would not come.

Unable to stand it anymore, Angela decided that she needed immediate relief. She weighed her acrophobia against her exploding bladder—the latter won out. Now, she needed to figure out how to escape this cocoon. Tony's head was heavily slumped back, against the billboard—he was completely asleep, and the zipper was on his side of the bag. Gingerly, Angela reached over, careful not to wake him. She deftly unzipped the bag and opened it. 'Great, now I have an open bag and I'm too terrified to stand', she thought to herself. Standing on the platform had made her dizzy before, and now there was the added danger of it being so dark. She couldn't even see the edge. 'Oh god, what if I fall off?' her mind screamed at her. 'Yeah, but what if I wet the bed and Tony wakes up in a puddle of pee?' she silently volleyed back to herself.

As bravely as she could, Angela stood up and faced her phobia head on … well sideways. She figured that her best bet was to simply return to the house, use her own bathroom and sleep in her comfortable bed. She flattened her back against the billboard and slowly eased her way toward the ladder, one infinitesimally tiny sideway step after another. Her heart was pounding and her legs were shaking from terror, but she continued making her way across the platform. She urged herself to hurry, fearing that she might indeed lose control of her bladder, but entertaining that worry merely fueled her need to go more urgently. A strong gust of wind hit her hard, stopping her mid-shuffle. Angela whimpered like a cowered pup.

"Angela? What the …" Tony sat up confused.

"Over here," she replied, her voice trembling.

Wide awake now, Tony took two long strides and joined Angela where she was. "Where do you think you're going? It's pitch black out here."

"I need to go home."

"What, now? By yourself, in the dark?"

Angela took a deep sigh to quell her squirming. "I desperately need to use a bathroom," she replied, embarrassed.

"You can't hold it in?"

"Uh, no. Tony … I, um, I, er, well, I'm about to burst!"

"Oh. Teensy bladder, right?"

Angela ignored his inappropriate question. "Tony, can you please help me down—before I have an accident?"

"That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea," she said.

"Yeah but Angela, I already told you that I can't come down. If I do, I'll lose all the pledges. Do you want me to call Mona? Maybe she can help you down."

"Fine."

"Wow, you really must be desperate!" Tony felt for the phone and dialed Mona's number. "No answer," he said.

"Try the main house. She's certainly watching the kids." Tony dialed the house, but the phone kept on ringing. "Again, no answer. Maybe they went out or somethin'."

"Drat, I forgot. Yes, Mother was planning to take the kids out for dinner and a movie to reward them for manning the phones all day."

"Should I call 911? The fire department can get you down."

"Just what I need—for the news crews to find out that I got stranded and needed to be rescued by firemen so that I could pee! I'd never live that down."

"Look Angela … I can't come down with you. And it's awfully dark; it would be dangerous. If you missed a rung or fell, I'd never forgive myself."

"Well what am I supposed to do? I really need to … go!"

"So … go."

"Go? Where? I'm not a man, remember?" Angela's predicament was making her cranky and her legs were beginning to cave again.

"Over the ledge, just like I did. I'll hold onto your hands so you don't fall off. Just squat and … well, you know."

"What?!" Angela asked in horror. "You want me to do what?"

"Listen, I'll help you. We're near the ledge, it's just a few steps away. Hold my hand and I'll hold on to you so you don't fall off."

"But … but …" she sputtered.

"But what? It's either that or burst, right?"

"This is so humiliating. You want me to pull down my pants in front of you?" Angela practically choked on her words.

"It's dark out! I can't see a thing."

"Tony, I just can't … ooooh, but I have to …" Angela cried. A tiny sob escaped her.

"Oh gee, don't cry Angela. Please don't cry." Tony felt so badly for her. He came closer to her and put his hand on her shoulder, careful not to create a space between her and the wall.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled. "I'm such an idiot … I should have stayed on the ground."

"Or at least not had that horrible consommé to drink." Tony was relieved to note that Angela's lips curled up slightly at his joke. If she could smile through her tears, she'd be alright.

"Angela, do you trust me?" he asked her point blank.

"Trust you? Of course I trust you. Tony, I trust you with the most important thing in my life—my son! You know that. Why are you asking?"

"Can you trust me now?" He gently grasped her left hand in his and pulled it away from the wall. Her hand slammed back into the wall as though a giant magnet was controlling it.

"Tony … I'm scared."

"I know you're scared. That's why I need you to trust me. I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you, Angela. I want you to focus on the sound of my voice and do what I tell you. Do you think you can do that?"

She responded with a weak whimper. Tony stood before her and placed his steadying hands on her shoulders, then stroked her arms, up and down a few times, massaging and caressing them.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Gettin' you to relax. Shhhhhh. Don't think right now—just focus on me … my hands and my voice, okay?"

Tony gradually unglued Angela from the wall, reassuring her the entire time. He didn't even know what he was saying, but his soothing tone seemed to be working. "There, there … no, don't look down. Look at me. Focus on my face, that's it … good, good." Once he had her in his arms, he cautiously maneuvered her backward toward the ledge. "No! Look at me!" he reminded her.

Angela was drawn to Tony's calming voice and sure touch. Her legs stopped shaking and she was able to breathe deeply once again. So long as she lost herself in Tony's presence, she could forget about her precarious situation.

"Angela? You can go here. Just squat and hold into my shoulders. I won't let you go."

"Tony …"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"I won't let you go. I'll_ never_ let you go—I promise you that, Angela."

They gazed into each other's eyes, somehow finding each other in the blanket of darkness. He grasped her around the shoulders while she undid her pants and slid her panties down to her ankles. He lowered himself with her, and firmly held her shoulders, never taking his eyes away from hers. Their shiny gleam peered out at him through the thick blackness of night.

When she was done, he handed her a tissue from his pocket, and held onto her extra tightly with his other hand. After she'd taken care of herself, they slowly stood together, her arms wrapped around his waist. Once up, she quickly pulled up her panties and jeans and let him lead her back to the sleeping bag.

"Feel better?" he asked her.

"Much. Thank you, Tony," she whispered into his neck, inhaling the scent of him.

Together they slid back into the sleeping bag, the same way they'd done so the first time. Tony put his arm around her and drew her to him, offering her his shoulder. They fell asleep pressed against each other.


	5. Cardinal Sin, part 1

**Awkward Moment Five, Season 5, part 1 **

_**A/N:**__ Takes place during __**Cardinal Sin**__, after the old timers' baseball game. The episode never did say whether or not they won. In this story, they did. Tony and Angela are still pretending to be married, and they have one night to go in St. Louis. Ever wonder what happened on that second night? Yeah, me too. ;) _

_P.S. I know next to nothing about baseball, so I apologize ahead of time if I got my sport facts wrong! Thank you VioletStella for informing me that "cleats" are not pants, but in fact shoes. I had to remove the cleats from Tony's ass. (hmm, sounds more fun than it was)_

Angela watched Tony play ball from her VIP seat in the second row, first level at Busch Stadium. She vaguely knew the rules of baseball, and was somewhat aware of the score. She cheered when she was supposed to and "whooped" along with the other players' _wives_ when one of the 'Old Timers' hit the ball or made it safely to home base. In body, she was glued to the plastic seat but in spirit, she was on that outfield with Tony. She followed his every move, mesmerized by his speed and grace. She admired the way his muscular arms flexed when he swung the bat so powerfully. She appreciated the sight of his tight, toned bum when he ran the bases. She'd seen him play before, in friendly games, or even not-so-friendly ones, casually and on neighborhood teams, but this … this was different. The crowd was roaring and cheering for the _St. Louis Cardinals_. And Tony … her best friend … and supposed _husband_ was the one being applauded. 'He's beautiful', she thought to herself, studying him as the sun lit his face. He was waiting on second base, body taut, eyes watchful like a panther about to pounce. So many of the other 'Old Timers' had gone soft, but not Tony. He was still a virile athlete and if it hadn't been for his shoulder injury, Angela was sure that he would have gone very far in his pro-ball career. She felt a deep compassion well up inside of her for his lost career and dreams. As though he could read her mind, Tony smiled into the bleachers and made a run for third base, then passed it.

Angela cheered him on, screaming with the other fans, "Go Tony, go … Tony … go … yaaaaaay!" She jumped out of her seat when he slid into home base.

"Your husband's terrific!" one of the wives cheered, giving Angela an enthusiastic and somewhat painful punch on the arm.

'As far as these people are concerned, I'm Tony's wife. I'm Angela Micelli!' she mused. Her heart skipped a beat and she softly mouthed 'Micelli, lips savouring the M, mmmmmm, delicious. Delicious like the kiss she'd given Tony at breakfast upon learning that he hadn't spent the night with Betty. She blushed at the memory of her bold move and smiled.

The Cardinals beat the Orioles five to two. When the game was over, the players' wives and personal guests flooded the field to congratulate their loved ones. Angela spotted Tony in the joyful mêlée and rushed up to greet him.

"Congratulations!" she uttered breathlessly. Like all the other wives, she was about throw herself into his arms, but a pang of self-doubt stopped her cold, an inch away from his face. She chewed her lip and took a step away from him.

"We won, Angela! We won! " Tony exclaimed.

Angela shook her head and shrugged off her silly insecurities. "I'm so proud of you!" She flung her arms around him and closed the tiny distance between them. He smelled of fresh air, clean sweat and Old Spice. Tony encircled her waist, and held her tightly against him. "Did you see my final run?" he asked.

"Yes, you were wonderful," she said into his shoulder. "I … I finally got to see you play in your uniform, in a real stadium. Oooh Tony … thank you. Thank you so much for inviting me." Angela blinked away tears of emotion and gave him one last squeeze before stepping back to face him. She pushed away a lock of sweaty hair that was glued to his forehead, and caressed his flushed left cheek. Their eyes locked and he smiled at her.

"I'm the one who should thank you. Thanks for stayin' Angela. You would have had every right to leave after …"

"Shhhhh." Angela touched her finger to his lips to quiet him. "You're my best friend and I came to see my best friend play ball. Let's forget about anything unpleasant that happened before, alright?"

"You got it!" Tony said in genuine relief.

XXX

"We're _old timers_, huh?" Tony shouted to his friends from his shower stall in the men's locker room. He continued scrubbing off the sweat and grime, post-game. "We showed them Orioles!"

"We creamed those guys. Can you believe it? Five to two!" Tony's teammate Burl replied from his shower stall. "That wasn't some old fogey game we played, guys. But I gotta admit, my bursitis had me worried."

"Your bursitis? What about my bum knee?" Davey retorted from the next stall over.

"You guys sound like a bunch of dried up old farts, you know that?" Tony admonished them. He turned off the water, and dried himself off, then wrapped the towel around his waist. "Bursitis, bum knees? You're ripe for the nursing home. Sheesh."

"Hey, I'm forty-two this year," Davey answered. "You might not have hit the big four-oh yet, Micelli, but it's coming for you. Coming like death," he snickered, then slapped Tony on the butt with a wet towel. Tony reacted in mock horror before bursting into raucous laughter himself.

"Come on guys, our heyday was only a dozen years ago. We're not that old. Besides, Tony's got a brand new bride to keep him young," Mike said. He gave the guys a sidelong glance, then added, "so long as she doesn't kick him out on his ass again tonight!"

"Hey, hey, don't go there! Kissin' Betty was a huge mistake." Tony felt both guilty and ashamed. He'd really hurt Angela and it didn't sit well with him. The guys' lighthearted ribbing had touched a nerve. Davey noticed it first and signalled the other two to zip it.

"Sorry Batman. That one hit below the belt." He put a consoling hand on Tony's bare shoulder and said, "You may have screwed up royally in the marriage department last night, but you've got tonight to make it up to her. Don't forget, you'll be wining and dining her in style at the winner's celebration dinner."

"Right, and afterwards, you can prove to her that you're not an 'old timer', or a dried up old fart?" Mike added with a guffaw.

"Dried up old fart. I'll give you a dried up old fart," Tony muttered. He kept his head down as he walked to his locker, dressed quickly and slammed the locker door closed.

XXX

The Winner's Celebratory Dinner was to be held in the hotel's magnificent four star restaurant, all expenses paid by the baseball league itself. Reuniting retired players was a huge fan draw for them and sold plenty of tickets. No expense was to be spared in the wining and dining of their veteran champions.

Tony paced and sighed, waiting for Angela to exit the bathroom. "Come on Angela, I don't want to miss the hors d'oeuvres. You almost done in there?"

Angela opened the bathroom door and stepped out into their bedroom in her evening finery. Tony gasped at the sight of her. She wore a simple chiffon cocktail dress in navy blue. The elegant sleeveless gown was cinched at the waist, and the skirt settled gracefully just above Angela's knees, swaying with every step she took. Hair piled high on her head gave her a regal look, softened by the tendrils of blond curls that escaped the sides of her upsweep. A magnificent pearl choker completed her stylish ensemble. "How do I look?" she asked him.

"You, um, you look, um wow." Tony took a slow step toward her as he tried to regain his bearings. The navy dress enhanced the milky whiteness of her smooth skin. He had to battle against his desire to caress her smooth shoulders and stare at her subtle cleavage. Masterfully sublimating his ache for her—a skill that he used more and more these days—he politely held his hand out to her. "Shall we? Dinner awaits."

The dinner was hosted in a separate party room within the hotel's exquisite restaurant. The tables were laid with crisp white tablecloths, sterling silver and fine china, sparking in the light of crystal chandeliers. Improvised melodious Jazz chords floated harmoniously from the baby grand piano in the corner, prompting some of the guests to dance on the spacious floor around it. They were warmed by the glow of the welcoming fireplace.

"Angela, is this place swanky or what?" Tony exclaimed with childlike enthusiasm.

"It's lovely. I'm so glad I decided to stay and celebrate with you tonight."

"Yeah me too, Angela. Me too. 'Cause you being here with me is a better feelin' than any home run I could hit."

"Oh Tony." Angela's voice trembled slightly and she had to blink away the moisture that was forming in her eyes. She squeezed his arm and looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with deep love.

"Tony, Angela!" Burl called to them, waving them over to his table. "Come, join us!"

Tony and Angela sat with Tony's three closest teammates, two of whom had brought their wives. One chair remained empty. Angela looked at it apprehensively because Betty was circling the room in a dress that left little to the imagination. 'Even Mother would have trouble competing with that,' Angela thought in dismay. Betty spotted the empty seat and stealthily maneuvered herself toward it with predatory speed.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked in a sexy drawl.

Burl, Davey and Mike glanced worriedly from Betty to Tony, while their wives looked at Angela with sympathy. They all seemed uncertain, but nobody dared tell Betty that she wasn't welcome. Betty shrugged and slid into the empty seat beside Tony. "I won't bite," she said, and pointedly looked at him.

Angela swallowed hard and balled her fists under the table. Betty's powerful perfume wafted over Tony's head, and into Angela's sensitive nostrils. She wrinkled her nose at the intrusive fragrance. She recognized it as _Opium_, the exotic signature scent of a femme fatale begging to be noticed. 'Great, now I won't be able to taste my dinner because of this horridly cloying stench,' Angela thought. She looked over at Tony, grateful that he had angled himself toward her, his back to Betty. As though reading her thoughts, he gently grasped her hand beneath the table and gave it a light squeeze. His acknowledgement soothed her, so she kept hold of his hand, and laced her fingers with his. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if holding hands was alright for best friends to do. Tony's warm fingers entwined with hers made her feel safe. Angela would not let go until she felt secure enough to do so.

"That was some game today!" Betty said. Clearly she was staying at this table. Angela took a gulp of wine.

"Uh, thanks," the guys mumbled, looking down at their empty plates.

"You know, we couldn't have won without Tony!" Davey declared suddenly. "He got the rest of us safely to home base when he hit that ball into the bleachers!" The other men muttered in approval.

"Aw shucks guys … it was a team effort."

"Yes, but you _were_ amazing today," Angela assured him, then gave his hand an extra little squeeze.

"You sure were," Betty began, but was cut short by Angela's impenetrable expression. The silent rebuke in the blond woman's dark eyes warned Betty off. Angela took another sip of wine to fortify herself. Betty made her tense.

As the evening progressed, course after course of sumptuous gourmet food was devoured by the hungry guests, along with copious amounts of full-bodied red wine. At first, Angela drank the wine to relax and because the waiter poured her some. Then, she drank because the bold Burgundy went down like velvet, and accompanied the filet mignon so magnificently. After several more glasses of _Grand Cru_, Angela no longer cared that Betty was seated on Tony's other side. In fact, she thought it was rather funny really. 'Other than that oversexed body, what does she really have going for her?' Angela mused. 'She's an aging groupie who follows baseball teams to sleep with the players. I wonder how many men she's slept with. It's obvious she's been around the block, again and again. Tony's already had her and he resisted her last night. Besides, she's too old for him.' Angela downed another glass of wine with that thought and chuckled to herself. The room was beginning to sway.

While they waited for dessert, some guests stood up to dance. Saxophone and percussion had joined the baby grand; the music was livelier and louder and the dance floor quickly filled. Betty got up and began dancing by herself, sensuously moving her outrageous curves in time to the tempo. Men stared, women were pissed off and Betty let out a throaty laugh. "Who wants to dance with me?" she dared the crowd. An aging bald man ditched his heavy wife, and walked toward Betty as though in a trance. Betty had fun with him, giving her audience a knowing wink. She pulled it off, subtly mocking her dance partner, while maintaining all the focus on herself.

Angela was disgusted by the brazen show and felt sorry for the bald man's wife, who had returned to her seat and was stuffing her face with bread, watching her husband squeezing Betty's gyrating hips.

"Hey, hey, how come the newlyweds aren't dancing?" Burl said. "This isn't a spectator sport, though _some people_ are making spectacles of themselves."

"Yes, you should dance!" Mike's wife chimed in. "And maybe bump that bald dude back over to his wife."

Angela smiled. She understood … she understood how Betty had manipulated Tony. The bald man never stood a chance. "Come on Tony, your friends are right. We should dance. We never got to finish our dance," she said sadly, her words slightly slurred.

"What are you talking about?" Tony asked.

"At the wedding reception, Geoffrey cut in. I didn't want to dance with Geoffrey. Why did you throw me at him, Tony?" Angela gave a small sigh and added, "It was that Fred and Ginger, wasn't it?"

"Uh … Angela?"

"You made your new bride dance with some other guy?" Davey asked. "Holy stupid move, Batman!"

"No, no, she's confused. That was at somebody else's wedding," Tony explained.

"Still, why would you pitch her over like that? Your wife wants to dance with you," Burl said. He then leaned over to Tony and whispered directly in his ear, "What's your problem? Last night you kissed Betty and now you won't dance with your wife. She's gorgeous. What the hell are you doing, man?"

Tony stood up, feeling like a complete chump. He knew Angela had had quite a bit to drink but he figured he could keep her steady in his arms. He'd humiliated her by coming across as a crummy husband. It was time to set things right.

He held his hand out to her, and Angela stood, amazed at the spinning sensation in her head. The chandelier lights sparkled throughout the room, glinting off shiny surfaces. 'It's a disco ball', she said with a giggle.

"Disco ball? Angela, are you okay?" Tony steadied her. "How much wine did you have?"

"I dunno … just one."

"One glass?"

"No, one bottle."

"Oh boy … come on, Angela. I know you're blitzed, but we have to give them a dance. Betty's stealin' the show along with that poor woman's husband. And all my friends think I'm a lousy husband. Do you think we can show 'em one good dance? Make me look like a good husband?"

"Oooh, you are a good husband, Tony. The best. I'm so glad I married you, even if I had to dance with Geoffrey." Angela slumped against him and giggled.

"One bottle, Angela? You sure it wasn't two or three?" Tony held onto her tightly and led her to the dance floor. He accidentally, on purpose stepped hard on the bald man's foot.

"Oooh, so sorry. So sorry. Why don't you go sit down and rest that foot, huh? " Tony shoved Betty's entranced dance partner off in the direction of his wife and gave Betty a dirty look. Then, he turned his full attention to his "bride".

"I know you probably just want to go to bed right now, Angela. Just a quick dance, okay?" Tony gently swung her around, and valiantly hoped the move wouldn't make her nauseated.

"Go to bed? Um, yes, I do want to go to bed with you Tony," Angela replied. She gave him a seductive look, bringing her hands up to the back of his neck, stroking the hair above his collar.

"Oh my God, you're completely wasted, aren't you?"

Angela didn't much care if she was wasted or not. She was content in Tony's arms and collapsed there, shuffling her feet against the music's rhythm, causing Tony to step on her toes more than once.

Tony wanted to laugh, but he also felt a small measure of embarrassment. This was supposed to be his dance of valour; his make-up exam. Davey, Burl, Mike and their wives were all staring at him, and they were clearly not impressed.

"Angela, I'm gonna kiss you, and then we're going back to our room, okay?" Tony told her. "They're watching us …mffflllf?" Before Tony could finish his sentence, his lips were on the receiving end of a passionate kiss. He tried to make sense of what was happening. This wasn't like the sweet, friendly kiss that Angela had given him at breakfast that morning. No, this was a lover's kiss, insistent and hungry, with her tongue demanding entry into his mouth. One of her hands grasped his hair, and the other rested on his chest, over his heart. She pulled back for a breath and dove in again before he could react. Tony debated what to do … clearly Angela was drunk and not responsible for her own behavior. On the other hand, she probably wouldn't remember anything and the guys were watching, so he gave them a show they wouldn't soon forget. He kissed her again and again, holding her up so she wouldn't flop at his feet. He delved into her mouth with his own, cupping her jaw with his hand to keep her head upright. He kissed her cheek, her chin, her lips again, her other cheek, her jaw, then sought her mouth once more. He could taste the wine on her; her mouth a fine vintage and perfectly luscious. He forgot all about his friends, the dance floor, Betty, the restaurant and the world. All he knew in that moment was the feel and taste of her, and the tiny moans that were escaping her throat. He kissed her like he'd wanted to kiss her for years. A camera flash went off, then another and another, but he was barely aware. She was kissing him back, though slowing down now. Her eyes were closed and he feared she might have fallen asleep.

"Angela?" he whispered between kisses. "You okay?"

"Ummmm, never better … love your kisses …more … more kisses," she murmured into his mouth.

"Go back to your room, Batman!" Mike yelled. Burl and Davey laughed, and took another picture.

Tony secured Angela against himself and walked out of the restaurant, head held high. He wasn't such a heel of a husband after all. He could feel Betty's irate eyes on him, so he turned and smirked at her. Things hadn't turned out so badly for him in the end. Angela had stayed for the ball game. He'd won. And they'd celebrated.

He somehow managed to get her back to the room, submitting to her kisses in the elevator. "Angela? The guys aren't here anymore …" he began to tell her even though she didn't care. She pressed her lips against his neck and nuzzled him until the elevator let them out.

"You have to go to bed now, Angela. You had a lot to drink. Do you understand?"

Tony fretted. He urged her to use the bathroom and stood by vigilantly in case she passed out. She came out of the bathroom, clad only in her lacy bra and panties. Tony flung a nightgown at her, but she ignored him and passed out on the bed. He covered her up and hoped she wouldn't be sick during the night.

_**To be continued …**_

_**A/N: This is a long one, with multiple awkward moments. More to come when they wake up, and later. **_


	6. Cardinal Sin, part II

**Awkward Moment # 5, part 2 (Cardinal Sin continued)**

_**A huge "thank you" to the incomparably talented VioletStella for proofing, editing and helping me when I needed to do rewrites. **_

Tony decided it was his turn in the bathroom, not only for nightly ablutions, but for the distraction it would provide him from an almost naked Angela in bed. As he brushed his teeth his distraction turned to worry. It wasn't like Angela to drink too much. Angela knew her limits and had previously lost control when she over-imbibed. Memories of flying around the kitchen, flinging flour at each other came to mind. And yet, that kiss in the kitchen four years earlier had nothing on the ones they'd just shared on the dance floor. He could still taste her wine-perfumed lips. The heat and passion of her kisses had branded him; they would forever remain seared in his memory and in his heart. For they had been kisses of desire, fuelled by more than simple lust. Tony had seen the love in her eyes and felt it upon his mouth when she'd possessed his lips.

Frustration joined worry in his mind.

Tony flicked the light out in the bathroom and was confronted with his second worry: where to sleep. The small sofa was too short and frankly, his muscles ached from that morning's baseball game. Perhaps there was some truth in being called an 'old timer' after all. Tony did not wish to sleep on the short two-seater anyway. He wanted to stretch out and be comfortable. He hadn't, however, counted on Angela being wasted. He looked longingly at the comfortable bed, and at the beautiful off-limits woman in the bed. Angela lay face-down in the centre of the bed, long limbs haphazardly arranged, taking up most of the space. She was mostly covered by the sheet, except for one, long perfect leg. Tony stared at her shapely limb not knowing what to do with himself.

Angela needed a protector tonight, and that's what he would be. Tony sat on the edge of the bed beside her and watched her sleeping for a while. 'I should take that necklace off her,' he thought. He was worried that the choker would dig into her throat. With quick dexterity, he unlatched the pearls from around her neck and slid them out beneath her neck. Then, he turned her face to its side so she wouldn't suffocate in the pillow. Her breathing was steady and deep. No reaction. 'Good,' he thought, for he knew that his presence in the bed would not disturb her.

He gingerly lay down beside her and made himself small on his side of the bed. He accidentally grazed the silky skin of her thigh with his own as he tried to get comfortable. Tony looked at Angela's naked leg and admired it without reserve. With no forethought, he placed an inquisitive hand upon her warm skin and stroked her, pausing behind her knee, then brazenly continuing down her shapely calf. Feeling both aroused and guilty, he withdrew his hand but continued to study her-the gentle fluttering of her lashes in sleep, the high slope of her cheekbones and the elegant arch of her eyebrows. He knew her face so well, yet felt as though he was seeing it for the first time, the way one contemplates a great work of art. But she wasn't art—she was a real woman, and his best friend. He outlined her lips with his thumb and licked his own lips, then cast his eyes downward to the sensual black lace peeking out from beneath the covers, giving him a glimpse of her backside. "I want you," he whispered to her, his deepest desire spoken and acknowledged, though soundless. Feeling more confident now, he added, "I love you, Angela. I love you so much." His voice rose to normal volume, startling him. Once escaped from his lips, the words existed separately from him, holding a power of their own. He heard them and knew they were true. Tony fell asleep guarding the voiced secret in his heart.

XXX

Angela opened one heavy eyelid and closed it again. Pain. She tried again, this time pushing both lids up with sheer willpower. Like jagged glass, they scraped against her dry eyeballs. She blinked hard to moisten them and the roar of blood rushing through her ears sounded like a thousand thunder claps. "Ooooooh," she moaned. Her quiet voice reverberated against the pillow and Angela wondered if her head was going to explode. She needed to pee but standing was going to be a problem, especially if the loud echoing sounds in her head didn't stop. A ticking clock. Tony's snores. Angela covered her ears but merely touching her skull almost sent her reeling off the bed in agony. Tony was asleep beside her, she realized with a start. She lay motionless trying to regain her senses and wondered how much she'd had to drink last night. She felt that her legs were bare and glanced down at herself beneath the covers, noting in dismay that she wore only a bra and panties—Angela swallowed hard, causing her parched throat to ache. "Water," she whispered, then cringed. With great determination, she sat up and waited for the dizziness to recede. Then she stood and made a wobbly line for the toilet.

Confusing and disjointed memory shards teased the edges of Angela's consciousness. She remembered her dress, the filet mignon (which now made her retch and vomit), wine, music, Betty at their table, Tony's hand holding hers, dancing, green beans almandine (gag), Tony holding her, Betty's grating drawl, Tony a protective barrier, Tony, Tony, Tony. Whenever Angela tried to fill in the missing blanks, all she could see was Tony's face looking at her with tender concern. She brushed her teeth, recoiling at the ear-splitting sound of toothbrush bristles moving like sandpaper over her teeth. Angela finally dared to look in the mirror and gasped in horror. The heavy eye makeup she'd worn overnight had run and smeared making her look like a rabid raccoon. But worst of all, her face was deathly white and her eyes bloodshot. She pressed a finger against her lips, wondering why they were so red and slightly chapped. A memory fragment blindsided her. Kissing. Angela closed her eyes and pursed her swollen lips, remembering kissing, kisses … lots of them.

Putting the pieces together wasn't too difficult. Clad only in a bra and panties, and sharing a bed with Tony could only mean one thing—sex. Angela wanted to cry. She'd had sex with Tony and didn't even have a single, solid memory of the event. Hadn't he promised her that if they ever _lost each other as friends_, he'd make sure she remembered it? So much for that promise. With a sense of shame and disappointment, Angela made her way into the shower and stood beneath the spray, crying. She'd wanted it to be so much more with him. She'd wanted to make love with Tony for years because she loved him and desired him. She'd fantasized numerous romantic scenarios of them making love, usually involving roses, champagne, satin bed sheets, and declarations of deep love. But the reality of her post-coital hangover made her cold. Drunken sex. No memories. Passed out. Angela regretted it deeply and only hoped that Tony had a somewhat fonder memory of their night together. She stepped out of the shower, shivering and small, wondering how she was going to face him.

After popping two Advil, and drinking two glasses of bathroom tap water, Angela finally exited the bathroom. She set up the room's tiny coffee maker (how old where these coffee pouches?) and watched Tony sleeping. Drip … drip … drip, the coffee percolated reminding Angela of loud hammer strikes. She dressed in a dull, sedate outfit—white pants and a simple blue sweater. While she waited for the coffee to brew, she applied a generous amount of corrective makeup to her face, erasing the effects of last night's debauchery. Then, she sat and waited.

Tony woke to the scent of cheap coffee. "Angela?" he muttered. He patted the empty side of the bed and opened his eyes.

"Over here," came the strained voice. She was seated on the small sofa, holding a mug.

Tony stretched and yawned, then got up to use the bathroom. He threw on a robe and joined Angela on the small two-seater. "How's that coffee?"

"Terrible." She gave him a searching look, made eye contact and looked away.

"So, uh, how are you feeling this morning?" he asked her. "Got a headache?"

"Terrible," she echoed.

"I'm surprised to see you up already. You were pretty wasted last night … I figured you'd sleep really late," he told her. He sought her eyes but she kept them downcast, looking at her coffee. "Angela, how come you drank so much last night? That ain't … isn't like you."

"I don't know," she replied. Her bottom lip quavered and she sniffled, still unwilling to meet his eyes.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked her, concerned. Tony put his hand out to touch her but stopped midway when Angela flinched.

"Am I okay? No, I don't suppose that I am," she said to the wall. "I don't know why I drank so much either. I don't remember much of anything about last night," she finally admitted. A deep blush rose over her cheeks and neck.

"Well … maybe you drank because Betty was sittin' next to us." Tony threw that out as a plausible explanation. Angela shrugged and met his eyes for a split second—a tear of shame and regret fell down her cheek.

"Ay-oh, oh-ay … what's this?" he asked her in a low, tender voice.

"I don't remember," she said, choking up now. "I don't remember anything except for little pieces that don't fit together," she cried.

"What do you remember?" Tony was cautious in his reply because he could see that Angela might burst into tears at any moment.

"I remember food, wine, Betty, dancing and …"

"And?"

"And, uh, kissing." She hung her head low and wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Kissing, huh? Yeah, we did that." Tony grinned at her but was taken aback by the anguish in her tired eyes. "Angela, you were pretty wasted so we got a bit carried away with the kisses. Don't worry about it though, 'cause I had to show the guys that I wasn't a lousy husband to you. Showed Betty too," he declared proudly.

"Well if it had only stopped there …" she began.

"It _did_ stop there, Angela! Why? What did you think happened?"

"Shhhh, don't shout," she said. Then, "It stopped there? At kissing?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"But … but, we shared a bed and I wasn't dressed and … and … am I jumping to wrong conclusions again?"

"Dead wrong," he reassured her. "Angela, I swear, we didn't do anything last night. You threw off your dress and passed out in the bed. I fell asleep beside you 'cause I didn't want to cramp myself on this tiny sofa here."

"Oh my gosh. Oh Tony, I'm so embarrassed. Once again, I've jumped to conclusions … and I feel so stupid!"

Tony chuckled. "It's okay, Angela. I get it … you assume we have sex when you're drunk because … well because you don't trust yourself around me when your inhibitions are low." He meant to kid around with her, using humor as a means of getting her to stop fretting so much, but his words had the opposite effect.

"What?!" she demanded in outrage, terrified that he knew how much she wanted him. She wondered if she'd said anything stupid last night.

"Relax, Angela. I'm only teasing."

"Why? You think you're so irresistible, that all women want you?"

Feeling a bit defensive now, he replied, "Well Betty wanted me."

"She sleeps around. It's hardly an accomplishment when a whore wants you."

"A whore?"

"Well yes … a woman who sleeps around with many men. I mean, what's one more to her?"

"I see. Well in that regard, your own mother could be considered _"

Angela gasped. "You leave Mother out of this!"

"You're the one who brought up whores. I was only trying to reassure you that nothin' happened last night. Why are you so bent out of shape?"

"I am not bent out of shape," she retorted. "And my mother is not a whore."

"Fine, Mona is a saint. She's a nun. And I'm not irresistible to women. And I want you to stop bein' mad at me and taking everything I say the wrong way!" Tony smiled at her, hoping to diffuse the tension. He poured himself a cup of coffee and winced at its moldy tree bark taste.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Did I … did I do or say anything embarrassing last night?" Angela cringed while she waited for him to respond. She didn't really want to know but she felt that she must. If she'd somehow humiliated herself in front of Tony and his friends, she'd have to do some damage control. And right now, Angela felt very much out of control.

"Uhhhhh …" Tony hesitated. He wondered how much he should tell her. That they'd kissed, she already knew. Perhaps not how much, nor for how long, but there really wasn't any point in telling her _that._ Then again, in her drunken state she'd declared that she wanted to go to bed with him and loved his kisses. Ha! So, he_ was_ irresistible after all. Tony grinned and shook his head.

"What?! Why are you grinning? What did I do?" Angela asked in a panic.

Tony cleared his throat and took a gulp of warm tree bark swill. "Nothin'. Let's go down to breakfast. This coffee tastes like shi_, er swill."

"I don't believe you," she said.

"No, really, it's the worst coffee I've ever had." When he saw that Angela wasn't smiling, he said, "Leave it, Angela. It was no big deal. We kissed on the dance floor and, uh, you kissed me in the elevator."

"I kissed you?"

"Oh yeah. You wanted … never mind. Never mind. You were drunk. I'm not holding you to anything you did or said, alright?"

Tony refused to answer anymore questions. He dodged Angela's anxious queries by locking himself in the bathroom to shower and dress. Then he led her to the breakfast area downstairs, where his friends were already waiting.

"Hey there Batman! You guys must be hungry this morning," said Burl with a knowing wink. Davey and Mike nudged each other and guffawed. "You two gave us quite a show last night."

"What?" Angela asked faintly.

"Your dance floor make-out session. That was something else," said Davey with a laugh.

"Knock it off you guys!" Tony berated them. "Angela had a bit too much to drink last night—she's in a bit of a fog this morning."

"Maybe this will jog her memory," Burl said. He handed Tony a giftwrapped box.

"What's this?"

"Open it and find out. It's a belated wedding present from us."

Tony met Angela's gaze and slowly opened the wrapping paper. His heart was pounding—he hadn't expected a wedding gift for his phony marriage. Oh. He tried to hide the present from Angela but she reacted quickly and grabbed it out of his hands.

"Oh dear," she moaned. The guys had given them a framed photograph taken last night. A photo of them dancing and kissing passionately.

"What the … how? How did you guys do this?" Tony asked. He was anxious because Angela's face had gone even paler.

"Simple, Micelli. We took some pictures and the one-hour photo place across the street developed them. They sold us the frame too." Davey wondered why the happy couple was treating the gift like a hot potato. Angela had practically thrown it down and now Tony was staring at it in dismay.

"Don't you like it?" Burl asked. "It's a very romantic shot. You guys look great in it. That was some dress you had on last night, Angela."

"I .. I, er, sure thanks guys," Tony mumbled.

Angela took the present, stood up and went to hide in the corridor. She was too humiliated to face Tony. In the photo, she was squeezing him around the neck and her mouth was open over his. It was quite obvious that she was the instigator of that kiss; Tony's eyebrows were shot up in surprise. 'I was all over him,' she realized. She also realized that Tony had not told her the entire truth about last night and it irked her. She wondered if she'd ever find out what had transpired last night. What had Tony said about kissing in the elevator?

"There you are." Tony found her.

"Tony. I want to be alone please," she said, her voice quivering with emotion.

"No way. You're too upset to be left alone. Angela, what's the matter? Is it the present?"

"What's the matter?! What's the matter?!" she stammered. "We made out in front of all your friends and they took a picture! It was me, wasn't it? I kissed you! And what was that about an elevator?"

"You're not gonna leave this alone, are you?" he asked softly. Tony came to stand right beside her and took her hand in his.

"I can't," she cried.

"Fine, come 'ere," he said. Tony led her to an empty conference room down the hall and pulled out a chair for her.

"You were pretty wasted last night. When Betty sat beside me at our table, you started with the red wine, and you kept going. I suppose she made you uncomfortable."

"You could say that."

"I'm sorry, Angela. That's my fault."

"So, I drank too much. Then what?" Angela asked.

"You wanted to dance, uh, because you were upset that we hadn't finished our … wedding dance," Tony told her with a sheepish grin.

"Our wedding dance?"

"Yeah, you were smashed and confused. You thought we were really married and you wanted to dance, uh, because _Geoffrey with a G_ had cut in on our wedding dance. You said I'd thrown you at him. Is that what you really think, Angela? That I threw you at him the night of the Ferguson wedding?"

"Oh my God! I said that?" Angela avoided his question because the answer was 'yes'. The night of the Ferguson wedding had awakened a fierce longing to be with Tony, but that stupid old couple had ruined everything. She'd wanted to kill them for making Tony feel inferior.

"Yeah, you did." Tony realized he wasn't getting an answer, so he took a deep breath and continued. "We danced and I wanted to kiss you, to show the guys that I'm not a lousy husband. You kissed me first and then, uh, you kept kissing me. But like I said, you thought we were married."

"Oh." Angela was blushing furiously now.

"But, I kissed you back. It gave the guys a good show, you know?"

"Right." So he hadn't wanted to kiss her. Angela felt like a loser; not only had she thrown herself at Tony, believed they were married and mentioned her feelings about the night of the Ferguson wedding (as if that wasn't bad enough), but he'd only kissed her for show. His kisses had been phony and staged. She wanted to dig a hole and die there, away from his probing gaze.

"And I kissed you in the elevator too," she stated, her voice flat.

"Kinda, but you thought _"

" … that we were married," she finished. "Did I try to seduce you?"

"Angela, why do you need to know this?" Tony was embarrassed.

"I guess your question tells me what I need to know," she said in defeat. "I'm sorry, Tony. I'm sorry that I threw myself at you. I was no better than Betty."

"No, you didn't throw yourself at me… gee Angela, why are you bein' so hard on yourself? You didn't try to seduce me! You only said that you wanted to go to bed with me, but you didn't actually do anything about it."

"Oh great, so I don't even know how to seduce a man."

"Angela!"

"Tony, forget it. We're not married. We shouldn't have pretended. This was all a huge mistake." She choked back a lump in her throat and ran out of the room before her tears spilled. The photograph fell onto the floor, abandoned.

_**A/N: Well folks, seems like this is going to need a Part 3. I'm posting what I've got, because I won't be able to write this weekend and didn't want to leave you hanging for too long. Thank you all for the positive feedback and reviews. I'm so thrilled that you're enjoying these "awkward moments". One of these days, I will finish "Family". Promise. **_


	7. Cardinal Sin, part III

**Awkward Moment Five, part III (Cardinal Sin, conclusion)**

"So, are you givin' me the silent treatment now?"

"No," came the muffled reply.

"Then why you haven't said anything since we got on the plane? Come on, Angela. Give me a break here … I didn't do anythin' wrong!" Tony said, hurt.

"I don't really have anything to say. And no, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm not mad at you." Angela turned from the window to face him. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at me."

"Why? Because you had too much wine? Because we kissed? I don't get what the big deal is." Tony truly was perplexed. He hadn't understood why she'd run out on him earlier and felt that her reaction was unwarranted. So, they'd kissed? So what? She'd been drunk and that had been his fault in the first place because of Betty. Tony was a 'fixer' and right now, he needed to fix things between himself and Angela. A flutter of panic was edging its way across his gut like an unwelcome storm cloud and he wanted it gone. He tentatively put his hand over hers and grasped it in both of his, startling her. "Angela, can we talk about this, please?"

Angela looked down at their joined hands and wanted to cry. His strong, warm fingers were holding her delicate slim ones with such determination. "Oh Tony," she began to say, but was rendered silent by the sudden jarring sensation of turbulence. Her fingers tightened around his and her stomach lurched at the intense jostling.

"Are you alright? We only hit an air pocket," he told her. Angela's nails were digging into his palms and he could see fear in her dark, worried eyes.

"I'm fine," she said weakly.

"No, you're not."

"Tony, I'm still … a bit hung over. The turbulence isn't helping."

"That's it? 'Cause you're piercing my flesh here, Angela!" Tony let go of her hand and shook his out.

"Sorry, oh, sorry Tony."

"Angela, stop apologizin'. For this and for the other stuff too. You got nothin' to be embarrassed about. Or afraid of." Tony gingerly took her hand in his once more and gave her a tender look. "But if you insist on apologizin', you could apologize for bein' such a lousy dancer last night. Now _that_ was downright embarrassin'." His warm brown eyes sparkled with merriment.

"I … I danced badly?" Angela wasn't sure how to respond to his teasing, but she seized the invitation to speak and let down her guard.

"Oh-ay, Angela, aren't your toes sore today? You kept smashin' them into mine. You were dancin' against the beat." He shook his head as though she was hopeless.

"Actually, I seem to recall you stepping on _my_ toes. _My_ open-toe shoes with your heavy dress shoes, and yes, my left pinkie toe does hurt today. You were leading, so you should have led me better. Besides, I was tipsy."

"Tipsy? You were wasted!" he snorted.

"Shhhhhh!" Angela was mortified when the passengers in the row ahead turned around to look at them. Tony made a rude face at them and they quickly turned back, both blushing.

"Tony!"

"Ah … ah … you smiled! I made you smile," he chanted. "Now, back to this dancing business … Angela, I really do think that you can better. Much, much better." His eyes twinkled as he lobbed the ball back into her court.

"Much better, huh? And how do you suggest that I do 'much better'?"

"Lessons," he stated, his face serious now.

"Lessons?"

"Yes, with me. I bet it'd be a cinch for you to learn _On Broadway_ … now that is some dance."

"What? But that's the dance you did with Betty! Why would you want to teach me that one?"

"Because Angela, that song is _mine,_ not Betty's. And I think it's high time I got myself a new dance partner. Don't you agree?" Tony held his breath in anticipation of her reply, for he could sense that Angela was in a fragile frame of mind. He knew that reassuring her was paramount—their friendship depended upon it.

"I, um, sure," she replied, feeling both touched and self-conscious. "Not much room here though."

"When we get home, Angela. When we get home, I'm gonna dip you and twirl you and spin you 'round the livin' room!" Tony grinned at her and felt the tension leave his shoulders because she was smiling back at him. Equilibrium was being restored and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, his relief was so great. Instead, he cleared his throat and decided to confront her about her feelings earlier.

"Angela, I've gotta show you somethin'," he said. Tony swallowed hard and took a deep breath before rummaging through his luggage bag. He crammed his hand into the front pocket and dug deep inside until he found them.

"What is it, Tony?" Angela peered over at his bag trying to see what he was looking for.

"Before I show 'em to you, promise me you won't freak out, okay? I'm doin' this to make you feel better, not to embarrass you or nothin'."

"Alright. What is it?" She was definitely intrigued, and a bit apprehensive too.

"Angela, these are the rest of the photos the guys took of us on the dance floor. Na-ah-ah, let me finish!" He put a hand up to silence her, then handed her the pile of photos he'd been holding in the other hand.

"Oh," she whispered. Angela quickly looked through the five photographs, unable to control the blush that bloomed on her face, making her hot and uncomfortable. She could feel Tony's questioning eyes boring into her, but trapped in her airplane seat between him and the window, there was nowhere to hide. All of the pictures were of Tony and herself on the dance floor. She took her time now, looking at them one by one despite the embarrassment of studying them beneath Tony's scrutinizing gaze. In one picture, she and Tony were dancing closely, foreheads pressed together. She couldn't see her face but Tony looked blissful. Angela glanced up at him and noticed that he was rather flushed as well.

"Tony, why …?"

"Because you were blaming yourself. You were being so hard on yourself, saying that you'd thrown yourself at me. And that's not what happened. Yeah you kissed me, but I hardly fought you off, ya know?"

"I can see that." Angela examined another photo, this time of them kissing. It had been taken from the side and it was clear that Tony was a willing participant. His eyes were closed and he was holding her tightly against himself, one hand pressed possessively around her waist and the other on her back. The next photo showed him kissing her jaw, while tenderly cupping her face in his hands. More kisses, more dancing … Tony obviously enjoying himself in all of the photos, and apparently taking the lead with some of those kisses.

"And you were sober?" she squeaked.

"Yeah, I was sober," he admitted ruefully. Tony had debated showing them to her because he'd been afraid of pushing things between them. But her sullen mood and self-flagellation had changed his mind. He wanted her to feel better about herself, even if the tool at hand did cause some awkwardness between them. The entire weekend had been one faux-pas after another anyway … what was one more cringe-worthy moment between them?

"I see." Angela glanced up at him then looked back down at the photos, quite speechless now. Her heart rate was accelerating and her tummy was doing funny flip-flops at the sight of them kissing and holding each other so intimately. They looked like a couple very much in love. 'Well I'm in love with him,' she mused. 'Could Tony be in love with me?' she wondered. "Oh!" she gasped. The mere thought made her tingle all over.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Why did you kiss me back? If you were sober, I mean?" Angela didn't give Tony a chance to respond, and instead answered her own question. "It was for the guys and Betty, wasn't it? You wanted to redeem yourself in their eyes, not come across as a lousy husband."

"That was part of it, yes." Tony took back the photos and put them away. Their presence was beyond distracting. He couldn't get those kisses out of his mind—the feel of her, the taste of her kisses, or the way she'd looked in her black bra and panties after the dinner. She was so perfect, with her gentle curves, long legs and flat belly … he'd wanted her badly that night and he still did. However, he needed to make sure things were status quo between them once more. That was his prerogative … much more important than his libido, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time.

"Oh?"

"Uh, yeah. But I also, uh, well Angela … you already know how much of a pushover I am when an, _ahem,_ attractive woman kisses me," he muttered. Tony looked out the window beyond Angela's head. He simply couldn't make eye contact with her.

She stared at him wide-eyed. "I see. So, first Betty kissed you and you got caught up in it, then when I kissed you, it was the same thing?" Angela asked. She wasn't sure if she ought to feel offended by Tony's comment, or if it was a compliment.

"Angela, can we just say that I wanted to kiss you? I mean you can't deny that there's an attraction between us, 'cause it's there, sparking enough electricity to light a small city."

"Dubuque," she said.

"That's the one." Tony flashed her a crooked smile and inched his face toward hers. "Our friendship is real important to me. I wouldn't want to risk it, Angela. But … but sometimes, we get a _Dubuque moment_, ya know? I guess what I'm sayin' is that it's okay to have those from time to time. They're gonna happen and, well, since we're best friends, it's okay. Right?"

"Right, Tony." Angela squeezed his hand and leaned in to kiss his cheek, pausing a second longer than necessary so she could inhale the scent of his aftershave. "Thanks for clearing things up."

"You're welcome, Boss."

XXX

The sonorous sensuous song, _On Broadway_ played in their living room. Tony showed Angela how to move her feet, turning her this way and that.

She giggled, "Oh, like this?"

"Yeah, now you're gettin' the hang of it," he said with a smile. He spun her around, their feet moving faster and faster, going in circles.

"Oh my," she said, getting flushed and a bit dizzy. She was safe in his arms but her legs were making moves she didn't know she had.

Tony increased their speed and dipped her, enjoying the feel of her moving rhythmically with him. He could envision other rhythmic movement with her, so he plunged down with her, dipping her, then bringing her back up, then down again, mimicking something else. She let out a throaty "oh, oh" followed by a torrent of giggles. 'Another Dubuque moment,' he thought. He wanted to kiss her throat and would have if the door hadn't opened at that moment. Samantha and Jonathan entered the house and stared at them in confusion.

"Oh yes, I think the plaster in the ceiling is cracked!" Angela shouted. The children looked up and Tony let her go. They glanced at each other and he winked at her. "Dubuque," he whispered, so only she could hear.


	8. Awkward Moment 6, teaser

**Awkward Moment Six (Season 6, after I Dream of Genealogy) **

_**A/N—Just a short introduction/teaser to Awkward Moment 6. I'm still alive but this is all I had time to pen. More to come soon. Promise. **_

"I'm only saying that I want to know more about the Robinson side of the family," Angela stated to her mother. "After Samantha's school project and finding Grandpa Romano, I've become quite interested in genealogy."

"Really?" Mona asked. "Poor Grandpa Romano was so disappointed to not be Tony's real grandfather. Was it all worth it, dragging an old man across the Atlantic to meet people who weren't even his relatives?"

"I know, but the fact is that if Samantha had dug a little deeper, she might have found the right person. With Daddy gone, it would be special to connect with some extended members of his family. My family."

"Your father's side was English. His grandparents arrived here in the late nineteenth century from England and your father grew up in Connecticut. What else do you need to know?" Mona sounded irritated and impatient with her daughter. They were seated at the kitchen table after dinner while Tony cleaned around them.

"I want to know more because it's my heritage, Mother. It's who I am!"

"You already have_ my_ complete family tree dating back to the Mayflower. And I've just told you about your father's ancestry. It's not very interesting, Angela." Mona stood up and exited the back door to return to her apartment. Conversation over.

"That's strange," Angela said.

"What is?" Tony grabbed a kitchen chair, turned it around and sat on it backwards.

"Mother's reaction. She seemed almost, I don't know … upset or something, like she was trying to dissuade me from learning more about my father's heritage."

"Oh come on, that doesn't make any sense," Tony scoffed. "You can research your genealogy if you want to, Angela. It's not like you need your mother's permission."

"I know that! It's just that I was hoping she could help me. I thought it would be a fun project for us to do together, trying to find out more about Daddy and his history. For all I know, I've got plenty of cousins to meet. As an only child, it would be nice to have familial connections beyond my mother and my son."

"Yeah, I get that. Hey, if Mona won't help you, I can. We can write to the census bureau in the city where your grandparents lived. We can check registers, archives and whatever else there is to check." Tony spoke with enthusiasm. "You know, this could be fun-even if they are all WASP's," he chuckled.

"Hey! Don't call me a WASP … um, how about noble Anglo-Saxon?" Angela said. "Maybe I've got the blood of brave knights flowing through my veins?"

Tony looked at Angela's dreamy expression and grinned. "Yeah, or maybe even Royal blood, Angela."

"Don't make fun! I'm sure that my ancestors were fascinating people."

"Sure, Ang. Blue-blooded aristocrats all the way."

"So, you'll help me do the research?"

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to finding out what we discover about you."


	9. Angela Bower, Who do you think you are?

**Awkward Moment 6, part II (I Dream of Genealogy, season 6)**

_**A/N: Sorry for the super short chapter/teaser before this one, folks. I didn't want to keep you waiting too long. Again, a huge thanks to VioletStella for giving me tips about American immigration history and for being my second set of eyes. I was inspired by the show, Who Do You Think You Are? (a genealogical/ancestry search for celebrities' roots) **_

Although Angela wanted to delve into her history on her own, work commitments kept her from trekking to various offices and digging through dusty files. She'd hired Miss Bernice Morton; preserver, specialist and holder of historical archives and census records of the late nineteenth century to do the heavier legwork. "Here comes your moment of truth," Tony said. He and Angela were headed to Miss Morton's office at the Surrogate's Courthouse in New York City.

"I know. Isn't it exciting, Tony?" She clutched his arm as they walked up the sidewalk to the majestic building. Her fingers dug into his muscled arm.

"It is. So why are you nervous? Is it 'cause of Mona? She's hidin' somethin' Angela." Tony gently eased the pressure of her hold on his arm by caressing her hand.

"Mother is acting strange, I'll admit. If she's hiding something from me, then I'm here to find out what it is. I have a right to know who my ancestors were, Tony."

They stood in front of Miss Morton's closed office door. "Are ya gonna knock, Angela?"

"Oh, I suppose I should," she said with an embarrassed giggle. She rapped on the door twice and very lightly.

"Angela, she's not gonna hear you."

"Come in please," the voice from inside the office called. Miss Bernice Morton had very good hearing.

"You must be Angela Bower," the old woman said from behind her large mahogany desk. It was littered with papers, folders, and photographs. Miss Morton peered at Angela over her thick bifocals. "Please have a seat. Who did you bring with you?"

"Hello Miss Morton. This is my housek-, my friend Tony Micelli. He's been helping me with some of the research."

Miss Morton nodded and scanned her files. "You have rather interesting ancestors Mrs. Bower. I've quite enjoyed reading through the records. As you know, I've collected UK Census records, birth, marriage and death certificates and logged through any correspondence I could find. Spent quite a few hours poring over these last night," she said.

"Oh, thank you so much. I really appreciate all of the hard work you've put into it," Angela replied. She leaned forward against the large desk trying to peek at the photographs. Tony edged his own seat closer, eyes drawn to the plethora of documents.

"Ahem," Miss Morton cleared her voice, startling her guests. They sank back into their chairs, heeding the soft reprimand.

"Shall we begin?" Miss Morton sounded like a school matron. Her dusty-grey hair was pulled back into a severe bun, giving her an aura of authority. She regarded the couple before her, silently ordering them to be quiet, for she had important things to tell them. When she'd secured their full attention, she spoke.

"I'll begin with the preamble, before I get to the, er, juicier parts," she began.

"Juicier parts?" Angela whispered to Tony. He grinned at her.

"As I was saying," Miss Morton regained control of the conversation, "I'll begin with the preamble. Your great-grandfather, Joseph Robinson arrived in New York City on June thirteenth, 1892. He owned a small mercantile in London … Wapping, to be more precise. He married an Ada Harcourt in 1889. Here is their wedding photo." She pulled out a faded, wrinkled daguerreotype of the couple on their wedding day and handed it to Angela. "Please don't bend the edges!"

"Oh, how did you get this?" Angela asked in awe. She stared at the photo almost reverently.

"The _General Register's Office for England and Wales_ sent it to me by registered mail. It was all part of my research. There will be an extra fee for the long distance calls and specialty mail."

"Uh huh," Angela replied, entranced by the photo before her. The man, Joseph Robinson was tall, wiry and extremely attractive. Angela peered more closely and gasped. "Oh Tony, he had my father's eyes! Wasn't he handsome?"

"Actually, I think it was the other way around … your father had his eyes. His grandfather had them first," Tony said. He smiled at her and took a closer look at the photo. "Yes, a good-looking guy," he agreed. Then he peered at the bride, Ada Harcourt Robinson and grimaced. She was built like a barrel and looked cross. "Um, the bride doesn't seem too happy," he remarked.

Angela studied Joseph's wife and shuddered. The woman was ugly … beyond ugly … she was repulsive, and her expression was angry and resentful. "What can you tell me about Ada?" Angela asked. She couldn't fathom how such an unattractive woman had secured a handsome husband. They looked completely mismatched, not to mention that she was considerably older than the young, rakish Robinson.

"Ada Harcourt was wealthy. It was her money that enabled your great-grandfather's mercantile to be successful."

"Oh, so he married her for her money?" Angela asked in dismay.

"I didn't say that. I don't know why they were married, but at any rate, she did not accompany him to Ellis Island. I became confused when reading through the documents, because Ada Robinson died in London in 1922. She lived with her sister, Ethel from 1892 until her death, and never immigrated to the United States."

"How can that be? Did she leave Joseph alone to cross the Atlantic by himself with a baby?!"

"No. There are no records that Ada Robinson ever gave birth."

"What?"

"Ada Robinson was not your great-grandmother. She was your great-grandfather's wife, but not the mother of his children. This is the 'juicier part' that I was referring to earlier." Miss Morton pushed her heavy glasses up her nose; her grey eyes danced with excitement. "I love my job, Mrs. Bower. I love the intricate detective work that is needed when sorting through old documents. Piecing together peoples' lives and discovering their secrets is absolutely fascinating. Your family does not disappoint."

"Oh?" Angela managed weakly. Her pulse quickened in both apprehension and anticipation.

"Joseph Robinson boarded that ship with another woman, not his wife. He left everything behind, his money, his mercantile … and Ada."

"Can't say I blame him," Tony muttered.

"So, he divorced her and remarried?" Angela asked. Joseph Robinson's actions would have been quite shocking during his era. "Who was the woman on the ship with him?"

Miss Morton hesitated. She opened her mouth to speak but took a sip of cold coffee instead. "Ginette Desrosiers," spilled out of her mouth along with a few drops of coffee. She quickly mopped them up with a tissue she kept up her sleeve.

"Sounds French," Tony stated.

"Actually, she was from Whitechapel, but probably by way of France originally. She called herself Ginny. I have a photo of her and Joseph in New York City. They were fresh off the boat and a bit rough around the edges." Miss Morton handed Angela a photocopy. "This is only a copy. The original belongs to the Library of Congress. It wasn't easy—I had to sift through all the immigration pictures taken the day of Joseph Robinson's arrival just to find him. Luckily, he was easy to recognize. According to the ship's manifest, his traveling companion was this woman."

"Ginny." Angela blinked in surprise at the photo of Ginny Desrosiers. She was nothing like Ada Robinson—this woman was stunning, even after a long transatlantic voyage. She was tall and noble looking, with a straight nose and high cheekbones. She wore her ebony hair loose, very uncommon for women of that time period. Angela's dark eyes peered into Ginny's matching dark eyes from the past.

"She's my great-grandmother then," Angela said. She didn't even have to wonder—the resemblance was quite striking.

"Yes. She gave birth to your grandfather, Jonathan Robinson in 1895. There's a birth certificate for that somewhere on this desk." Miss Morton rummaged through her files until she found it.

"Tony, look at her." Angela handed him the photo.

Tony took his time studying the picture of Ginny. "Wow," he whispered. "She's wearin' your eyes, Angela!"

"Actually, I think it's the other way around. I'm wearing hers."

"She was a real beauty. I can see why young Robinson ditched ugly Ada and fell for this girl instead, eh?" Tony chuckled. "So, your great-grandparents divorced. That may have been a scandal at the time, but in the scheme of things, does it really matter?"

Angela shook her head. She was relieved that none of Ada's DNA was floating in her veins. She preferred the open, honest look of Ginny. And that her great-grandparents had been together for love was sweet, really.

"There was no divorce," said Miss Morton. "I searched and searched and was unable to find any proof that Joseph ever divorced Ada. I do, however, have an 1893 marriage certificate for Joseph and Ginny."

"A bigamist!" Tony almost shouted. "Oh, that's hilar_". The stone cold look in Angela's eyes shut him right up. "Uh, that's, uh, it's interesting."

"Miss Morton, could it simply be that the divorce papers are missing? I'm sure that my great-grandfather wouldn't have married another woman while he was still married to Ada." Angela quickly put thoughts of Brian Thomas and her own unintentional bigamous marriage to Michael out of her mind. She caught Tony smirking and knew he was thinking about the same thing.

"Well see, Mrs. Bower, here is where there's a problem. After Joseph Robinson safely made it onto the ship, a warrant for his arrest was issued in London. I can't imagine that he'd ever contact them again, nor let him know where he was. He left New York City, moved to Connecticut and never looked back."

"A warrant for his arrest?" Angela repeated. This was getting to be a bit much. A bigamist and a criminal?

"Yes … see, he broke into a Whitechapel brothel. He was charged with theft."

"What did he steal from a brothel? Money?" Angela put her fingers to her temples and massaged them to stave off the headache that was beginning to form.

"He stole … how shall I put this? He stole Ginny Desrosiers."

"What do you mean, he _stole_ her?" Angela asked. She had a sick feeling twisting her gut.

"Ginny's contract with Madame Malfaisante wasn't over; she owed her at least two more years. One night, Joseph Robinson broke her out of the brothel. There are records that he had previously tried to buy out her contract but she was the brothel's most popular prostitute and the Madame refused his offers."

"A prostitute, you say?"

"Yes." Miss Morton wasn't sure if she should apologize or offer her client a strong drink. Angela's face was pinched and white and wearing such an expression of horror that Miss Morton decided on the drink. She opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a bottle of gin. "Have some of this, Dear. You look like you could use it."

"Yes, indeed," Angela gasped. Her head was swimming with all of the new information about her family roots. She gratefully took a rather sizeable gulp of Miss Morton's gin.

"Angela, are you okay?" Tony asked her. He quickly pushed her head down. "Put your head between your knees so you don't faint. You look like you might." He placed a warm, soothing hand against her clammy neck and gently massaged her there. "Shhh, it's okay, Angela. Take deep breaths."

Angela stared at her feet and kept her head down. She didn't want to look up; she felt completely blindsided. "Tony, my great-grandmother was a prostitute," she hissed. "And I look just like her!" To learn this in front of Tony humiliated her. Perhaps if she'd been alone with Miss Morton, she wouldn't feel so ashamed. To know that her father came from a law-breaking bigamist and his whore didn't sit well with her. She wondered if he'd known and if that's why her mother had been acting strangely. "I think Mother knows," she said.

"Maybe … but Angela, is it really so awful?" Tony leaned down to face her. "You're still you. This doesn't change who you are. If it weren't for Ginny Desrosiers, your grandfather never would have been born, and you wouldn't exist."

"Great, I owe my very existence to a criminal and a prostitute," she muttered.

"Mrs. Bower, I'm sorry that this news has troubled you. If it is of any consolation, Joseph Robinson never had any trouble with the law once he arrived in the United Stated. He and Ginny had three children together, and lived a modest, unassuming life in Hartford. He opened a new mercantile and she never returned to prostitution. She became a wife and mother."

"Come on, Angela. There's gotta be more to this than meets the eye. It sounds like a love story to me. For Joseph to risk everything to break Ginny out of that brothel—he had to be in love with her. Madly." Tony felt badly for Angela but he wanted to know more about Joseph and Ginny. "I'm thinkin' that if we ask Mona, she'll have some answers for us."

Angela sat up. The colour had returned to her face and her cheeks were now blazing with indignation. "You can be certain that I'm going to get to the bottom of this, Tony. I have some questions for my mother and I'm sure as hell going to get some answers!"


	10. Awkward Moment 6, part III

**Awkward Moment 6, part III (I Dream of Genealogy)**

_**A/N: This is the uber-speedy, "write it before bed" version while I have a chance. **_

"Mother! Mother!?" Angela called out as she entered the house.

"Angela, calm down. Do you think that yelling at Mona is the best way to get anythin' outta her?" Tony admonished. He'd been trying to calm her down during the entire drive back to Connecticut, but whenever he thought he'd made some headway, Angela's steam-like puffs of anger proved him wrong.

"I just cannot believe what Miss Morton told me today, Tony! I'm in shock. It's just so awful," she lamented.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad. Don't you think you're overreacting? Just a bit?"

"Tony, I am the progeny of a criminal and a common brothel prostitute. I think that entitles me to overreact as much as I want to," she huffed at him. The headache that had begun in Miss Morton's office was now a full scale migraine. The entire left side of Angela's head was throbbing in excruciating pain, and her vision was blurred. She wanted nothing more than to take some powerful pain medication and sleep until tomorrow. But first, she had to confront her mother.

"How about a drink? Huh? More gin?" Tony suggested.

Angela gave a weary nod and sat down. Her emotions had run the gamut—from the initial excitement of going to visit Miss Morton, to the wonder of seeing the old photographs and learning the names of her ancestors, then finally to the horror of learning who they were. She knew that Tony wasn't judging her, but she couldn't help but wonder how much her great-grandparents' blood determined who she was. She took the proffered glass of gin from Tony's hand and drank deep gulps to steady her nerves.

"Where's Mother?"

"I'll find her, Angela. Why don't you just put your feet up and relax, huh? Take it easy … this ain't an emergency. Nothing's changed since this morning. You're still the same person. Remember that." Angela looked at him but remained silent.

XXX

Up in Mona's apartment, Tony urged Mona to come downstairs. He'd recounted the events of the genealogical meeting to her and found her to be quite calm.

"I told Angela not to go poking her nose in her father's history," she said. "I had a feeling she'd react like this."

"So, you knew?"

"Of course I knew! Robert told me everything when we were married. He thought it was quite funny, actually. But his father, Jonathan Robinson, was a prim and proper stick in the mud. I think Angela takes after him. Anyway, he'd made his success as a banker and he didn't want his parents' history known. He went to great lengths to conceal it, even from his own son. Robert found out about his grandparents after his father's death, when he was sorting through personal effects. Jonathan had kept Ginny's journal. He adored his mother, and felt that he was protecting her by keeping her past a secret."

"Oh yeah, there's a journal?" Tony asked. He was intrigued now.

"It's in my safety deposit box, but I'll let Angela have a look at it … there's some pretty hot stuff in there!" Mona pretended to fan herself and let out a chortle. "Poor Angela, I knew she'd take it hard if she ever found out about Ginny."

"The resemblance was pretty striking, Mone. Except for Ginny having dark hair," Tony said.

"Angela does have dark hair," Mona replied with an eye roll.

"Mona, you're incorrigible!"

"Why thank you, Tony."

XXX

Later that evening, Mona returned home with a leather-bound journal. She handed it to her daughter with a stern warning, "Rip a page, dear, and I'll kill you."

"Mother, what is this?" Angela looked at the old journal with curiosity—its binding was falling apart and yellowed pages were spilling out, showing their faded ink. She instinctively pressed the book to her nose and took a deep breath. Um, vanillin and aged leather.

"Must you sniff every book you touch?"

"Yes, Mother, I must. What is this journal?" She gently opened the cover and gasped at the indicated date.

"It's Ginette Desrosiers' account of her love affair with Joseph Robinson. Read it and stop griping about the fact that the woman was a prostitute. It wasn't her fault, Angela. She had to do it to survive. Your great-grandfather fell madly in love with her and rescued her from that life. It was Whitechapel in the late 1880's! Ring any bells?"

"Whitechapel?" Angela thought for a moment. "Oh! Oh, Jack the Ripper was killing prostitutes during that time." Her hand flew to her mouth, as she regarded Mona with wide, shocked eyes.

"She was in danger and he saved her. It's romantic, Angela. Romantic! Now read the damned thing and find out about this couple. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. And even if you're not … who cares? They're all dead, Angela! Think about it." Mona left her daughter to gape after her.

XXX

Angela was up half the night reading her great-grandmother's journal. She'd taken potent painkillers to dull her migraine but the strain of reading was worsening the pain behind her left eye. Still, she was unable to put down the diary. Ginette's story both fascinated and entranced her. The writing so vivid that Angela swore she could hear Ginny's Parisian-Cockney accent. At about four in the morning, she read the last page and sighed. It was a sigh of satisfaction, of understanding, and of solidarity. "Ginny, you were amazing," she whispered to the journal. She gently put it down and went to the bathroom to search for more painkillers. 'Drat, I left them in the kitchen', she remembered. As she headed downstairs, Angela's thoughts were on Ginny's words, not on the stairs. She overstepped the last one and tripped over her own feet, landing at the bottom of the staircase with a thud. "Oh, merde and bloody hell!" she cried out in one of Ginny's oft-used expressions. Angela lost count of how many times she'd read that tonight.

As she struggled to stand up, she felt strong hands gripping her from behind. "Are you alright, Angela? Are you hurt?" Tony asked. He'd run down the stairs after hearing her fall. Tony was a light sleeper and always attuned to noises in the house in case one of the children needed him.

"I, I, I, uh, I have a headache," she replied. Tony pulled her up against him, so she sagged for a moment, relishing the feel of his powerful chest and shoulders.

"Did you hit your head?" he asked, confused now. "I thought you landed on your other end."

"I did. I have a migraine. I've been reading Ginny's journal and it hasn't helped the pain."

"You've been readin' all night? What, you haven't slept yet?"

"No. Tony, I couldn't put it down. It was … she was fascinating," Angela said.

"I'm curious."

"Come on, I'll tell you all about it in the kitchen."

Tony followed Angela into the kitchen and watched as she poured herself some water and popped a few pills. She was going for the prescription stuff. He winced, knowing that she never used those unless her headache was horrific.

"So, tell me about her, Angela." He sat down and pulled out a kitchen chair for her. "What has you so fascinated?"

"Everything, Tony! Everything! She came to London from Paris when she was a little girl. Her mother was a courtesan." Angela sniffed and looked up at him. "Yes, that makes two prostitutes in my ancestral history, and for all I know, her mother before her and so on …"

"I'm impressed that you're taking it so well." Tony moved his chair closer to hers and put his hand on her arm.

"Ginette was a resourceful girl, Tony. Her mother died when she was twelve and she had nothing. I mean nothing! Everything that her mother had worked so hard for … their home and carriage, servants, nice clothes… everything was spent in medical bills. Her mother died a long lingering death, she had tuberculosis. During her illness she couldn't work and the bills simply mounted."

"That's horrible!"

"I know. I know. But Ginny rallied, Tony. She was beautiful and used it to her advantage as her mother had done. Unfortunately, a destitute and beautiful girl didn't have many places to go in late nineteenth century London. She ended up in a brothel because they took pity on her."

"At twelve?" Tony asked, shocked.

"Yes, but not as a prostitute. They gave her room and board and expected her to cook and clean. And to pay off her debt to them when she was old enough and able to, well you know."

"So, what happened to her?"

"She grew up there and when she was fifteen, they put her to work with the other girls. She had a five year contract to pay back what she owed Madame Malfaisante."

"I see and that was the contract that Joseph tried to buy out for her."

"Yes, but the Madame refused him. Ginny was bringing in a lot more money than what was simply owed. Madame Malfaisante was using her and she knew it. She wanted out of the life, especially after meeting Joseph. He wasn't a client, Tony. He worked in the nearby mercantile where Ginny did quite a bit of the purchasing for the brothel. They met at his shop and fell madly in love."

"Yeah? But what about ugly Ada?" Tony wondered about the barrel-shaped woman in Joseph's wedding picture.

"Ada, right. Ada was a bitch." Angela said that last word with venom on her tongue, while Tony could only stare at her slack-jawed.

"Angela, I've never heard you say that word before!"

"Perhaps it's never applied to anybody so well … except maybe for Joanne Parker." Angela replied with a wicked grin on her face.

"Whoa, being compared to Joanne Parker—it's gotta be bad! What did Ada do?"

"According to Ginny, Ada had a mad crush on Joseph and wanted him for herself. Joseph was in business with Ada's father, and together they owned and operated the mercantile. Ada's father owned it and Joe ran it. To make a long story short, Ada saw an opportunity to have the man she wanted. She lured Joe to her home after dark and brought him to the stables under pretense that something was wrong with her horse."

"So?"

"So, a young woman of upstanding pedigree could not be in a stable at night with a young man and not have a chaperone. Ginny wrote that Ada blabbed about it to everybody and insinuated that something had happened. She ruined her own reputation, knowing that her father would force Joe to marry her."

"That's despicable! She tricked him." Tony shook his head. Ada Harcourt would have been safe from any man's advances. The woman had a face like a Rottweiler.

"Tony, it was hard for them both. Joseph was trapped in a marriage to a woman he despised and Ginny was trapped by Madame Malfaisante. They both needed to escape." Angela was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "Ginny describes a love affair so intense … so all-consuming, Tony. She and Joseph didn't even become lovers until they arrived in New York. He wanted to show her that he loved her for who she was. She describes the look in his eyes—how she could feel his love and passion in the way he gazed at her. Yet, he never touched her—not once while they were in England."

"Didn't touch her, huh?" Tony knew all too well about loving a woman and not being able to touch her.

"No, he didn't want her to feel like a prostitute. He courted her. Isn't that sweet, Tony?"

"I doubt Ada thought so, but yeah, yeah, it's sweet, Angela."

"Eh, who cares about Ada? She wasn't my great-grandmother—Ginny was. Ginette Desrosiers, daughter of a Parisian courtesan, Whitechapel whore, and the woman that Joseph Robinson fell madly in love with. Tony, when I read her voice, it felt like she was talking to me. I … I know this may sound strange, but what she was saying sounded kind of familiar."

"Familiar?"

"Yes! The whole time I was reading her journal, I felt as though I was having deja-vu. Over and over again. I felt as one with her, Tony. Does that sound crazy?"

"Uh, yes. But … but … some people believe in reincarnation."

"I don't."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," she stated, but her doubtful expression betrayed her words. "Tony, maybe you'd like to have a look at that journal yourself tomorrow," Angela offered. She'd recognized aspects of Tony in Joseph Robinson-his optimism, easygoing manner and the way he'd bulldozed his way into Ginny's life, loving her with respect and friendship.

"You bet I'm gonna read that! And Angela?" Tony turned his dark eyes to hers and held her gaze.

"Yes, Tony?"

"You've got the blood of madcap lovers flowing through your veins. You're descended from brave, resourceful people. And that passion … that passion they had is inside of you. Personally, I think love and passion are better than boring hoity-toity blue blood, don't you?"

Angela maintained the connection between them—not wanting the spell to end. Her eyes, the windows into her soul connected with his. Her heart beat fast and she finally had to look away, overwhelmed by a powerful sense of deja-vu again. She had a sudden glimpse of Joseph, in full color, real as day and it knocked the breath out of her.

"I'll take passion over hoity-toity every time, Tony, every single time."


	11. Snoop and ye shall find

**Awkward Moment #7 (Season 7: Takes place after **_**Parental Guidance Suggested**_** but before **_**Tony and Angela get Divorced.**_** Story is not associated with any particular episode.) The most humiliating Awkward Moment yet. bwahahaha**

Billy was bored. He'd been living with Tony and Angela for a couple of months and had amassed quite a collection of new toys, mostly educational ones that didn't make enough noise. He didn't feel like typing on the toddler laptop, nor building with his Lego today. He was looking for something fun to do. Preschool was out for the day, he'd already watched his allotted television hour and everybody was out except for Tony. And Tony was busy in the kitchen. Initially, Billy had been interested in cooking with Tony, and had helped to wash vegetables. But when Tony wouldn't let him use a knife, handle raw meat, then reprimanded him for climbing up on the kitchen counter, the fed up five-year old had wandered out of the kitchen in search of something more interesting to do.

He wasn't used to such a large space and took particular pleasure in going up and down the staircase. He hadn't had stairs in the tiny one-bedroom apartment that he'd shared with his grandmother in Brooklyn. He hadn't had his own bedroom either. The concept of privacy was still rather foreign to him. Billy often forgot to close the door when he went to the bathroom. He was also in the unfortunate habit of bursting in on the inhabitants of 3344 Oak Hills Drive without knocking on doors. As such, Tony and Angela had instilled a rather strict 'knock before you enter' rule. As Billy understood it, the rule applied to occupied rooms. Right now, the upper floor was empty, so the curious little boy decided to go exploring.

First he went into Samantha's old bedroom, now vacated because the girl was living at her college dorm. It was cleaned out, the only things left behind, uninteresting and discarded. Billy picked up an AC/DC cassette and recoiled at its jacket cover picture, then made his way to Jonathan's room. He'd been in here lots of time because Jonathan had so many cool science models, and books about bugs with disgustingly scary pictures. But he'd already seen it all and played with the biology models. How many times could he remove and replace plastic organs anyway? He exited the room and skipped his own, then entered Tony's bedroom. He'd spent his first night in Connecticut in Tony's room, and had precisely memorized the position of every trophy and old baseball photo hanging on the wall. Billy admired them for a moment, knowing that they would be in the exact same spot the next time he checked on them. The only bedroom he hadn't examined in detail was Angela's. Billy was confused as to why Angela and Tony had separate bedrooms in the first place. Didn't all married people share a bed? He remembered his parents' large bed, and snuggling in with them. As an orphan, he longed to do that with Tony and Angela too and was never sure who to go to when he had a bad dream. He wanted them both, together, with him in the middle.

He pushed open the door to Angela's bedroom, feeling somewhat unsure. He wasn't as close to Angela as he was to Tony and her room had an 'off limits' feel to it. Regardless, curiosity trumped apprehension and Billy entered the daunting room. His worries were quickly forgotten when he spotted the large four-poster bed … it was a bouncy castle! He removed his shoes, crawled up and jumped, a small, tentative jump. The bed had better springs than his own. A few more jumps and Billy was certain that he'd be able to reach the ceiling. He jumped again, higher this time. Heart pounding and giggling with glee; Billy jumped and jumped until he couldn't catch his breath. Being tired on a bed had its advantages, so he lay down and stretched out his tiny body on the king-sized bed, relishing in the space and luxury of his makeshift trampoline. He turned himself this way and that, thinking to himself that Angela's room was entirely too pink. Even the bedcover had pink flowers all over it. _Wrinkled_ flowers, he realized with a start since he'd mussed up Angela's covers quite badly. He stood and straightened things as well as he could, but still couldn't do a good job, being that he was only three foot six. Trying to gain a vantage point, he stood on her night table and leaned across the bed, but was unable to reach the other side. Huffing with frustration and worry, Billy ran to the other side of the bed and pulled on the coverlet, desperate to remove the rumples. Standing on the far night table made him too tall—perhaps he could simply open the bottom drawer and stand on that. He tugged on it and gasped at what he saw inside, wrinkly bed covers now forgotten.

Partially hidden beneath a handkerchief was a toy weapon! Why on earth would Angela possess such a thing? Was it a toy gun? Billy wasn't sure. He looked at the long, stick-like thing hiding in Angela's bottom drawer and pulled it out. Not a gun then, but a sword, or a wand? Maybe a magic wand like the kind a wizard would use, he thought to himself. He turned it over, holding it in different ways, testing, trying and twisting his new find. The inadvertent twist brought his sword-wand to life in his hands, making a loud buzzing noise and moving at a very high speed that tickled his hand. He dropped it in surprise and picked it up again, delighted to have found such a cool toy. He figured that Angela had probably bought it for him and had simply forgotten to give it to him. Or maybe she was making a commercial about it, but for whatever reason she'd abandoned it at the bottom of a drawer, Billy was ecstatic to have found it.

"Billy? Billy!" Tony called from downstairs. "Where are you?"

Billy panicked. Wand-sword-thing clutched in his hands, he bolted out of Angela's room and ran into his own. The messy bedspread was all but forgotten.

"I'm in my room!" he shouted down to Tony. He could hear Tony coming up the stairs, so he grabbed a pile of Lego, his G.I. Joe action figure and threw them into the middle of his bedroom floor. "I am Cobra Commander and I can destroy you, G.I. Joe!" Billy placed the action doll on some blocks of Lego and knocked it down with his new sword. "Beware my mighty sword. I will make you fall. Ha ha ha."

"Hey there," Tony peered into Billy's bedroom. "You were so quiet—I got worried." Tony said this with a chuckle and smiled at the scene before him. Billy seemed quite entranced with his toys and had a good game of imagination going on.

"Hi Tony, I was just playing in my room." No, Billy would not admit to using Angela's bed as a trampoline.

"Oh yeah? Can I join you?" Tony sat down beside Billy and stood G.I. Joe back up on his blocks.

"Okay. You can be G.I. Joe and I'll be Cobra Commander. I'm going to kill you with my sword!"

"Wait, what? But you're usually G.I. Joe. Why would you want to kill our _All American Hero_?" Tony was puzzled. Billy was always the good guy.

"Because, I have this cool sword and it makes noise and everything! I don't have a Cobra Commander Action figure, so I'm pretending to be him and I'm going to knock G.I. Joe off of that building," he said, pointing to the messy pile of Lego blocks. "You don't stand a chance against me, Joe," Billy declared in a theatrical tone. He was fully immersed in the role playing. He twisted his new sword-wand-thing and thrust it into G.I. Joe's side, sending him barrelling off the pile of Lego's. He knew by Tony's shocked expression that he'd successfully ambushed him. "I win! I win!" he squealed.

"Whoa! Billy, what is that?" Tony tried to grab Billy's new toy but Billy held fast to it.

"It's mine! You can't be Cobra Commander." Billy held the toy to his chest and stuck out his chin. "Mine!"

"I just want to see it. Can I have a look, please? I'll give it right back." Tony said.

Billy hesitated. He didn't want to get into trouble for finding his toy before Angela had had the chance to gift it to him. But then again, maybe Tony didn't even know about it. With great reluctance, he handed it over.

Tony stared at the vibrator in astonishment. He wondered how in the hell Billy had gotten his hands on a sex toy. "Billy, did you take this from Mona's apartment?"

"No, it's mine."

"I'm pretty sure it's not yours." Tony locked eyes with the small boy. "Remember our talk about honesty? Now, you tell me the truth. Where did you find this?"

Billy fidgeted and looked away. He didn't want Tony to get mad at him; he only wanted his toy back.

"Billy, answer me!" Tony's voice was louder and more menacing. Billy looked at him in defeat.

"I wasn't looking for it, Tony. I found it by accident."

"Where?"

"Angela's bedroom," he whispered.

"What?!"

"I needed to open the bottom drawer of her night table so I could fix her messy covers, 'cause I couldn't reach," he explained.

"You found this … _this_ _thing _in Angela's night table? Angela's? Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh." Billy wasn't sure if Tony was upset with him or not—at best, he seemed extremely surprised and was turning an interesting shade of red. Maybe he hadn't heard the part about fixing the bed sheets.

"Billy, you have to put it back. Right now!"

"But you said you'd give it back to me," Billy protested.

"It's not yours Billy. It belongs to Angela, and we have to put it back before she gets home from work. What the heck were you doing in her night table anyway? You can't go in there! I don't go in there! That's Angela's very private stuff. Now come on, you're going to show me exactly where you found it so we can put it back."

"Nooooo. It's _my _super villain evil wand-sword-thing! It's mine!" Billy lunged for the vibrator and tugged on it with all of his might, determined to dislodge it from Tony's firm grasp. But Tony was stronger and held onto it tightly, pulling it away from Billy as hard as he could.

"Billy, stop!" Tony pulled harder.

"I want it for my game. Angela doesn't need a Cobra Commander sword!" he shrieked. He yanked on his toy as hard as he could and fell backwards, holding half of it. "Uh-oh."

"Gimme that piece!" Tony took Billy's half of the sex toy and picked up the two AA batteries that had rolled onto the floor. He put them back in and tried to fuse the two pieces back together. He shoved them together but his attempts were futile, because the plastic had cracked beneath his strong grip, and the pieces no longer fit seamlessly as they had. It was broken.

"You broke my toy!"

"Oh my god, how am I gonna explain this to Angela?" Tony muttered in horror. He never imagined that Angela could possess such a thing. Mona, sure, but Angela? Perhaps Mona had given it to her daughter as a joke, he mused, no hoped. Surely Angela didn't use such things. Or did she? Being celibate for so long, she'd certainly have needs and longings. "And I was next door," he whimpered.

"Tony, what are we gonna do?" Billy asked him. "You broke Angela's toy." Now that it was broken, Billy didn't want it anymore and its ownership quickly reverted.

Tony wanted to lecture Billy about privacy and theft, but right now he was too anxious about the matter at hand. He couldn't put a broken vibrator back into Angela's night table. No, he'd throw it out. Better she be unable to find it, than find it cracked and destroyed. He turned to Billy and warned him, "Don't tell Angela about this, Billy."

"Huh?"

"Um, I'm the one who broke it, so let me handle it, okay? I'll keep you out of it … if you promise never to go snooping again. Got it?"

"Okay Tony." Billy sauntered out of his bedroom, looking for something else to do. "Hey Tony, Angela's home."

"What? Already?" He could hear Angela coming up the stairs and dropped the broken vibrator pieces. One rolled away from him. 'Think fast, Micelli', he urged himself.

"Tony, I'm home!" Angela called. She was on the landing now and headed straight for him. Tony shoved the pieces of sex toy into his back jean pockets and stepped out of Billy's room, into the hallway.

"Hi Angela," he greeted her as nonchalantly as he could muster. "Have a good day?"

"It was alright, I suppose. Nothing out of the ordinary. How was your day?"

"Fine, Angela, just fine. I'm gonna … gonna … gonna finish making dinner! Bye." Tony ran down the stairs and out to the garbage bins out back. He threw the broken vibrator in the trash, making sure to hide it well beneath scraps of other garbage. With a sigh of relief, he stepped back into the kitchen.

XXX

Angela stepped into her bedroom, her plush pink utopian flowered fortress of solitude. After a long day riding trains in and out of Manhattan, dealing with know-it-all clients, her mother's antics and a run in her nylons, she'd had it. She flopped onto her bed to rest her head before dinner. Every night after work, she needed these few minutes to centre herself and eschew the noisy thoughts. She sat up and noticed that her bed cover wasn't smooth. 'That's odd,' she thought to herself, for Tony always made beds military style, tucked corners, no wrinkles.

She stood up to smooth it out and hit her toe against the sharp edge of the far night table's bottom drawer. Something was very wrong. Angela looked at the open drawer in disbelief. She rummaged through its contents and felt her heart do a wonky somersault in her chest. "Where the hell is it?" she asked the drawer. She kept her most intimate things in this drawer; her vibrator, box of tampons, bikini waxing strips, and prescription medicines—things she didn't want Tony to see. He knew it was verboten and she fully trusted him never to go looking in there. Yet, here it was, wide open and with her vibrator missing, no less. Angela wanted to scream—her inner sanctuary had been violated. Who had taken it? And why? Tony couldn't … he simply wouldn't. Oh god, Billy. It had to be Billy. But how was she going to get it back? Angela had no idea how to confront the little boy. She decided to search his bedroom first. If Tony found it, she'd die of mortification. Besides, she needed her vibrator. When she had insomnia, a strong orgasm worked better than any sleeping aid. And it wasn't like she was getting any real action these days. Sure, she'd dated Peter and Andy during Tony's mid-life-Kathleen-crisis, but she hadn't actually invited either man into her bed. Nor had she accepted their insistent demands that she have sex with them. In the end, it had been simpler to break up with, rather than sleep with men she didn't love. To know that Kathleen was sleeping with the only man that mattered had made Angela both heartsick and literally-vomiting-sick. Kathleen! Ugh. Back from their temporary dark place, her thoughts returned to the crisis at hand. Billy's room, right.

She crept out of her room, careful to tiptoe but stopped herself. 'I didn't do anything wrong,' she reminded herself. Yet, she felt ashamed and embarrassed about the whole thing. Her mother had bought her the vibrator during one of Michael's long absences. Angela's first reaction had been shock, then curiosity and finally on a hot summer night when her loins were aching for her husband's touch, sexual frustration had overtaken her. She'd used it and had the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life. Even Michael, for all his experience, hadn't been able to stimulate her in such a way. Neither had Geoffrey. But that thing … that stupid sex toy kept her sane when the fantasies and sex dreams about Tony invaded her brain and body. She always thought about him when she used it, and had even taken to calling the vibrator "mini-Tony." Dr. Bellows had whole-heartedly approved of Angela being able to satisfy her own needs, rather than jump naively into precipitous relationships to 'scratch an itch'. Without "mini-Tony", she was liable to throw herself at real Tony. And of course, he'd reject her, she knew. He'd rejected her before, yet had slept with Kathleen. The scab wouldn't heal because Angela picked at it so often.

"Billy?" she said. No answer. Angela opened his bedroom door, relieved he wasn't there. She scanned his room, the messy toys on the floor, Lego blocks everywhere (and was careful not to step on one) and a man doll. She opened his dresser drawers but saw only clothes. She checked behind his books, his Play-doh and assorted action figurines. Nothing. Wait. Angela saw two AA batteries beside the Lego—they were the expensive deluxe kind that she'd paid extra for. "Mini-Tony" couldn't die on her before she was done with him, er, it. Billy's toys used the generic, cheap batteries that Tony bought in bulk. So, if her batteries were on Billy's floor but her vibrator was missing …

"Hi Mom. Tony said to tell you that dinner's ready," Jonathan said. He'd just returned home from his extracurricular chess club and had spotted his mother in Billy's bedroom. "What are you doing, Mom?"

"Nothing … I was just checking, er, Billy's book collection. I wanted to see if he had a beginner's dictionary."

Jonathan nodded at her, wondering at his mom's wide-eyed, panicked expression. He shrugged and washed up for dinner.

XXX

Angela was quietly freaking out. Her vibrator was such a personal thing, and yet Billy had had it for certain. Was he carrying it around? The thought made her feel faint. Appetite now completely gone, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen and sat down in her spot, next to Billy.

"Hi Billy," she said in a voice not her own. She was doing her best to keep the hysteria at bay.

"Hi," Billy mumbled. He looked away from her and pretended that his pork chops were fascinating.

Tony served Angela her plate, then Jonathan's and Mona's when they arrived. "Alright everybody, dig in.

Angela was quiet. She couldn't eat and she couldn't speak. Anxiety at the thought of being discovered made her twitchy and restless.

"Are you alright, Dear?" Mona asked. "You're not eating."

"I'm fine," she snapped back.

"And what about you?" Mona directed her query at Billy this time. "Why aren't you eating?"

Billy popped a green bean into his mouth and chewed loudly. "I am."

"Whatsa matter? Is there something wrong with the food?" Tony asked. Angela was pushing her food around and Billy was staring at his plate, not eating his pork chop.

Billy couldn't take it anymore. Guilt was gnawing at his stomach. He'd stolen Angela's toy and Tony was going to take the blame for him. His immature, developing conscience was clanging loudly and new as it was, the five-year-old had no idea how to make it stop juggling with his insides. "I'm sorry Angela!" he blurted out, with no prior context.

Tony dropped his fork and began shaking his head, silently shouting at Billy to shut up.

"You're sorry, Sweetheart?" Angela whispered with trepidation. "Why don't we talk about it later, okay? Eat your dinner."

"No, I can't eat. My tummy feels funny because I did something bad. It's my fault that Tony broke the toy. I went into your room and jumped on your bed even though I'm not allowed. I jumped at least eleventy times!"

"It's okay Billy. We'll talk about it later," Tony shushed him.

"But Angela's gonna blame you. I only wanted to fix the wrinkles in the covers and opened the drawer to be taller. And I took her Cobra Commander sword! I did it!" Relief flooded through Billy once his confession was out. He was ready for a punishment—nothing would be as bad as the gymnastics in his gut.

"Your Cobra Commander sword, Mom?" Jonathan asked.

"Oh god," Angela moaned. Billy and Tony had broken it? Tony had seen it? She wondered if one could die of humiliation. In that precise moment, Angela prayed for spontaneous human combustion.

"A sword, Billy?" Mona asked. She smiled, a knowing grin on her face. Angela's face was aflame, and Tony looked as uncomfortable as she'd ever seen him. And neither would look at the other, but they were both giving Billy murderous looks.

"Yeah, Angela's buzzing sword-wand-thing. Cobra Commander killed G.I. Joe with it but Tony took it away and when I grabbed it back, it broke. I'm sorry Angela. But, how come you had it in the first place?"

"Holy creepers!" Jonathan almost choked on a bean as realization dawned on him. "Mom?!"

Mona let out a chortle, "So, it finally came in handy, did it?"

Angela scanned the faces around her; her son's horrified expression, Tony's shameful one, Billy's quizzical face and her mother triumphantly amused. She bolted out of the kitchen and ran to her desecrated room. Then, she locked herself in her bathroom and took a shower to wash off the shame and humiliation.

"I'm never coming out, never, ever, ever, ever," she cried to herself beneath the hot stream of water. And true to her self-talk, Angela stayed in there until the water ran cold. When her teeth began to chatter, she got out, put on her pajamas and slid into bed. Sleep wouldn't come. It was too early—she could hear Tony putting Billy to bed, urging him to hurry up and brush his teeth already. The sound of his voice made her wince. He knew! A fresh wave of shame slammed into her and she dove her face into her pillow and quietly screamed. If ever she needed "mini-Tony" to help her relax, it was now. Instead, she returned to the bathroom and took a valium. Dr. Bellows had prescribed those for the tumultuous Kathleen days. Kathleen. Ugh. Angela popped a pill into her mouth. She needed this right now, really, truly needed it. She'd only taken them during the hardest of times, when she'd first learned about Kathleen and then on the nights when Tony had slept over at Kathleen's apartment. During those dark white nights, she'd chased the pills down with Vodka. But after Tony had dumped his mid-life-crisis-blonde, Angela hadn't needed the valium pills anymore, and she still had quite a few left over. "I need one now!" she shouted at the bathroom mirror. She took a second pill just to be safe, and returned to her bed.

Half an hour later, she was still awake. She wondered why the valium wasn't working and turned on her bedside lamp. Her book of Emily Dickinson usually had a calming effect, so she sat up with it clutched against her heart. Her eyelids were heavy and reading seemed a chore. Hugging the book was good enough.

Knock. Knock. Knock. "Angela?"

No.

"Tap, tap, tappity tap. "Angela, are you alright?" Tony asked through her bedroom door.

"Go away," she answered. "I'm sleeping." She switched off her side lamp to convince him. Tony, however, wasn't one to be deterred. He opened her door and let himself in.

"Can we talk?" he asked. He walked over to her bed and switched her lamp back on.

Angela threw her pillow over her face, unable to face him. "No. Go away, Tony, please."

"No. Angela, I think it's important to clear the air between us. Look, I'm sorry that Billy found your, er, Cobra Commander sword."

"Using a euphemism isn't going to make me any less humiliated." Angela flung her pillow away and sat up to face him. "What was Billy doing in my bedroom anyway? You were supposed to be keeping an eye on him!"

"I was, but the kid got bored in the kitchen. He's usually okay by himself and plays with his toys."

"Yeah, seems he found a new toy today." Angela's wounded dignity came across as sarcasm.

"Come on, Angela. He got into your stuff in the few minutes that I was breading the meat. I came upstairs to check on him as soon as I was done. But hey, I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry that he got into your room and took your vib …, er, toy, er, _thing_." Unable to find the correct noun, Tony blushed at his own verbal blustering.

"Oh god, what you must think of me?" Angela said into her hands. She was covering her face now. "I feel like such a fool." She wanted to cry.

"Now, now," he said in a soothing tone. "I'm sorry I broke it, Ang. I'll, uh, buy you a new one to replace it?"

"What?! No!" She stared at him, eyes like saucers now. Had Tony gone insane? He was toeing a line that few married couples crossed. The shame on her face was contagious. "It was a gift from Mother," she added. "I never bought such a thing."

"Mona, of course Mona would buy somethin' like that. I knew you would never. Why don't we just forget about the whole thing?" Tony was beginning to sweat and wanted out, now. He wondered if Angela used the vibrator … oh no, he was getting turned on and fast. He needed to leave her room immediately. He shifted away from her and begged his sexual brain to shut the hell up. 'Don't think about her using it. Don't think about her using it,' his ego yelled at his id. But ironically, asking somebody not to think about a pink elephant will have the opposite intended effect. Tony's pink elephant became a living image in his head. He put Angela's cast-off pillow on his lap.

"I'd love nothing more than to forget the whole thing, Tony. Now, give me back my pillow. I'm going to sleep." She reached for it but he held it tightly against him.

"Give me a sec," he exhaled sharply.

"Oh," she said.

It was his turn to feel embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Ang. It's just, this talk about, about, the thing. Ahem." He cleared his throat loudly and left his thought unfinished.

"You must think I'm a loser," she said. "To resort to such a thing." Angela felt it best to ignore Tony's predicament.

"Loser? No way. Actually, at first I thought it was Mona's, 'cause she's so liberated."

"That's one way to describe my mother."

"I didn't think of you as needing, or having, being, uh_" No word came to mind. Pink elephants, however, abounded.

"Horny?" she finished for him.

"Angela!"

"What? It's out on the table, isn't it? Surprise, Tony, I'm a woman with needs. Mother bought it when Michael was gone. I thought it was stupid and tried to give it back to her, but she refused."

"And?"

"And, nothing. I was glad to have kept it." Angela kept her eyes downcast. She couldn't believe what she was sharing with him. "I'm not saying anything else, so don't ask me anymore questions."

"I'm your best friend, Angela. If you need _"

"Need?!" she asked, alarmed.

"Need to talk," he clarified.

"Right. Talk. Good night Tony."

"Good night Angela." He stood up and fluffed her pillow behind her head. "Don't worry, Billy thinks it's a Commander Cobra sword. He's too little to have a clue."

"Jonathan figured it out."

"Eh, he's fifteen. He'll be way too embarrassed to ever bring it up, or talk about it to anybody. Your secret's safe."

"No, Tony, it's not. Not anymore." She turned away from him and switched off her bedside lamp. He'd glimpsed her private side and it hurt her. It hurt her because he'd had Kathleen. She picked at the scab again and burst into tears.

_**A/N: okay a bittersweet ending. I couldn't see how that would end well considering that Angela's still very wounded by Tony's "cheating". Still, hope you had a few good laughs in there. **_


	12. Kinky in the Kitchen

**Awkward Moment 8 (Episode continuation of **_**A Well Kept Housekeeper**_**, Season 8)**

_**A/N: Who loved the moment when Tony popped open the jam jar for Angela and asked her, "Was it as good for you as it was for me?" Her sharp intake of breath and the sexual innuendo was perfect! Also perfect in that episode was Tony in that skimpy outfit when he was working at the bar. The man was *sigh* physical perfection. This Awkward Moment takes place immediately after the 'jar opening scene'. (Look for my small homage to "Eye on Angela")**_

_**Thank you to VioletStella for being my Beta reader! **_

She smiled at him; the tension had dissipated with the popping of the jar. Yes, it had been _good_ for her. They needed this bit of humor after the painting-purchase-pride-problem that had resulted from Tony's overinflated male ego. Angela had felt discouraged and frustrated upon hearing Tony's doubts about their relationship. He'd been a jerk to her, but at least he'd owned up to it quickly. He handed her the jar of jam and she set it on the table.

"Aren't you gonna have some jam?" he asked.

"So, you, um, paraded half-naked in a room full of screaming women tonight?" she asked him, ignoring his question about the jam. Jam was now the last thing on Angela's mind.

"Yeah well, you know, ahem, er …" Tony trailed off, embarrassed now. A hot blush crept up his face and he began to squirm. "Ya know Ang, I only did it out of love for you, so you could have your painting."

"Uh-huh," she said. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "Actually, I think you did it because of your stubborn male pride."

"Well, think what you want—I wanted to give you somethin' nice. I've always wanted to give you nice things, Angela." Tony's eyebrows rose up into exclamation marks.

"Something nice, hmmmm?" Angela slid her hands down his black and white flannel shirt, then slowly caressed his chest in a circular motion. "Well it wasn't very nice that my boyfriend flaunted his perfect body to those screaming women. No, not nice at all." The sly half-smile on her face told him she was teasing him and that he needed to respond in kind.

"You're right, Angela. That was very inconsiderate of me." Tony placed his hands over hers and held them against his heart, so she'd feel the effect her touch had on his heart rate. "You think my body is perfect?" he added. Her compliment appealed to his sense of vanity; muscles were very important to Tony Micelli.

"Maybe you'd better show me again, so I can be certain," she said. She moved her fingers from his racing heart to his top shirt button and popped it open. "Ummm, perfect neck," she said and placed her lips against the exposed skin. "You smell like cigarette smoke from that sleazy place… how about I sweeten you up?" Angela spotted the jar of jam and a deliciously wicked grin spread over her face.

"Angela?" Tony balked slightly. He was worried about what Angela might have in mind with jam, in the kitchen of all places. "Maybe we could go away next weekend." They hadn't had many chances to be together since becoming a couple, and certainly never in the house. It had been a month since their foiled first attempt to make love in Angela's Jaguar. Murky ponds and failed hand brakes aside, they'd decided to get away for a weekend in the country shortly thereafter. Mona had teased them plenty and the kids had remained politely silent, while flashing megawatt smiles and giving each other high-fives. And finally, finally, they'd been able to give into their love and passion for each other. But they'd concocted an unspoken rule—no sex in the house until _or unless_ they were married. It really was schizophrenic, because everybody knew why they'd gone away but nobody spoke of it. Since that one glorious weekend of lovemaking, they hadn't had another opportunity to be together. Right now Tony desperately wanted to tear off Angela's blue flowered robe, take her on the kitchen table and show her what a man could do to a beautiful woman. But seven years of conditioning were hard to break—_no sex in the house, there's a teenager living here, she's still my boss, this is my workplace,_ etc. . Tony's mind reeled with his oft-used excuses for never touching Angela at home, save for some chaste kisses and hugs.

Angela noted Tony's conflicted expression, and the wildly darting eyes. She wanted him to squirm; he really had been a jerk about her success and wealth. "Tony, I want to admire that perfect body of yours, just like those screaming women had the pleasure of doing so tonight." Her tone was both seductive and snappy.

His eyes widened and he took a step backwards. "What? Here? Now?"

"Well, we are alone, and after tonight's antics, I think it's only fair. Show me what you had to do tonight … show me how you humiliated yourself because of that manly pride of yours." Angela dipped her fingers into the jam jar and smeared some on his neck and collar. She wanted to giggle at his shocked expression and rev it up a notch, so she leaned in and lapped at the jam with her tongue, licking and kissing his neck some more. "Ummmm, you taste so good," she breathed. "Oh darn, I got jam all over your shirt. Why don't I help you take it off?"

"Angela! We're in the kitchen," Tony admonished her. He put his hand to the sticky spot where she'd licked him and stared at her in disbelief.

"So what? Never heard of cooking in the kitchen, Tony? We had our first kiss here; it holds special memoires for me." Angela undid her robe, giving Tony a nice view of her satin nightgown.

"Madonna-mi, you're trying to make me crazy, woman!" A switch went off in his head, deafening all of his previous misgivings. He tore off his shirt, paused for a moment, then flung off her robe and pulled her against him. Their eyes locked and he could no longer resist her. He tilted her head back, almost roughly and bit her bottom lip. She whimpered and grinded her body against his, hard.

"Now. I want you now," he growled at her.

"Yesss," she breathed into his ear. "You're the man … take me, now." The naughtiness of it heightened her desire for him. She scraped his shoulder with her teeth and nibbled her way along his collarbone. "Need more jam." With one hand firmly secured around Tony's bum, Angela felt for the jam with her other hand. She dipped her fingers into the jar and accidentally knocked it off the table. It landed on the floor with a crash, scattering glass shards and jam onto the linoleum. Angela hesitated for a moment and stared at the mess she'd just made.

"Leave it!" Tony ordered. He turned her face back to his and kissed her. He was unrelenting in his kisses, barely giving her pause to breathe. Their mouths melded while her fingers trailed strawberry jam bits up and down his biceps. She pulled her mouth away just long enough to lick the sweet confection off of his firm muscles, sucking and kissing him along the way.

"Too bad I broke the jar," she said with a sigh. "I wanted to spread that jam all over you."

Her words inflamed his passion for her. "We have chocolate syrup," he groaned. "And Cool Whip too." Tony tore through the kitchen like a madman and found the whipped cream in a can. He aimed the nozzle at Angela's chest and squirted it over her cleavage and nightgown. "My turn."

Angela's anticipatory thrill was not for naught. When Tony pressed his hot mouth between her breasts and sensuously licked off the whipped cream, the sensation made her legs shake and quiver. And when Tony pushed her nightgown off her shoulders, squirted more Cool Whip onto her bare breasts and proceeded with his dessert, she almost died from the pleasure he was giving her. "I love when you put whipped cream on them …oh myyy," she moaned. "Let's … _oh god_ … go … _ummmmm_ … upstairs," she finally managed to blurt out.

Heedless of the broken jam jar and copious amounts of spilled Cool Whip all over the floor, Tony manoeuvered Angela backward toward the door, never losing contact with his delectable treats. They were both breathing hard and only had sex on the brain, so when Tony slipped on the whipped cream and fell onto the glass shards, the pain didn't register immediately. Delayed in his reaction, Tony yelped in agony, "Owww, my butt!"

"Oh no, did you fall down and land on a glass shard?" Angela asked.

"Just help me up instead of statin' the obvious, will ya?" Tony was in pain but his libido was still up. When Angela reached for him, her bare breasts close to his face, he was torn between getting up and pulling her onto him to lick the rest of that Cool Whip off her. The former, however, was more urgent at the moment. Pain sluiced through his backside as he stood. "I sat on the broken jar, Angela. Can you have a look?"

"Oh dear, oh dear," she prattled. She peered at his backside and gasped. Two large shards of glass were protruding out of his pants. "Should I pull them out? You've got two pieces in there."

"No! Don't touch them," he screamed, more from fear than anything else. As luck would have it, Mona had just let herself in through the front door and was heading toward the kitchen. She heard Tony screaming about not touching something and became rather curious.

"In that case, I'm taking you to the hospital. You need medical attention right now." No-nonsense Angela was back. She grabbed some paper towels and wiped her chest, then yanked her nightgown back up over her shoulders. "I just don't know how you're going to sit in the car … Mother!"

Mona wasn't usually one to be at a loss for words but the scene that greeted her made her jaw drop. Tony was shirtless and bent over a kitchen chair with what appeared to be glass in his behind. Jam, whipped cream and broken glass littered the kitchen floor, along with Angela's robe and Tony's flannel shirt. Both of them were dishevelled and was that jam on Tony's arms? "I'm almost afraid to ask," she said. "Angela, what did you do to him?"

"He fell, Mother. And I have to get him to the hospital, so can you please keep an eye on him while I go change? I can't go dressed like this."

"You mean, undressed," Mona smirked. Angela huffed at her mother and headed out the kitchen door to get changed.

"Tony, I don't want to know what games you and my daughter were playing at, with whipped cream and jam," she began. "You know me, I'm all for couples experimenting and having fun. But in all of my years, I have never, ever impaled a lover." She burst out laughing now. "You've got … ha, ha, ha, you've got … glass in your ass!" Mona howled with laughter. "I know that Angela's clumsy, but that really takes the cake."

"Mona," Tony warned her. He was in pain and not appreciating the torment being inflicted upon him by both Mona and his injury. "Where's Angela?"

"Still changing, I suppose." Mona sat in the chair beside Tony and peered into his eyes. "So, am I to understand that when you two are alone at home, you have kinky kitchen sex with food involved?" Her guileless blue eyes danced with mirth.

"Angela!" Tony yelled. "Hurry up!" He turned to give Mona a dirty look and shook his head. "Angela and I have never done a damned thing in this house. She wanted some jam and things kinda escalated from there," he explained.

"Wanted jam?" Mona asked, perplexed. "I've never heard it called that before."

Before Tony could respond with his own snarky comment, Angela reappeared, looking like her proper self once more. She could still feel the stickiness of Tony's 'dessert' against her shirt but tried to put it out of her mind.

"Can you walk to the car, or should I call an ambulance?" Angela asked him. "They could put you on a stretcher so you could lie on your stomach."

"No, don't call an ambulance. What about the Docs Ferguson? One of them's gotta be home." Tony didn't want to go out in public like this. The humiliation was too great and frankly, the pain was reaching a tipping point. He felt a bit woozy and nauseated. "I need to sit down," he said, forgetting his predicament.

"No, don't!" Mona and Angela both screamed at him.

Angela moved to his side and caressed his face. He was pale and beads of sweat had popped up on his forehead and upper lip. "Do you feel sick, Sweetheart?" He nodded and gulped hard. "Mother, get him a glass of water. Then call Isabelle and Paul. Please."

Mona handed him the water along with two painkillers, then dialled the doctors. "Hi Isabelle? We're wondering if you could make a house call. Tony has glass in his ass—I think it's Angela's fault. They were doing kinky things in the kitchen, and Tony is in a lot of pain. Looks like he might pass out too. Uh huh, yes, um, alright then. See you soon."

"Mother!" Angela gasped in horror. "_Kinky things in the kitchen_? How could you tell her that? Why don't you just leave? You're not helping one bit!" Angela wanted to strangle her mother.

"Isabelle says to get him to lie down so he doesn't faint," Mona replied, completely unfazed by her daughter's outburst. "Come on Tony, let's move you over to the couch."

Together the two women each took one of Tony's arms and helped him to the living room. He lay down on his side, bum facing out. Fortunately Isabelle only lived three blocks away and was there within minutes. She came in, took a look at his injuries and tried not to laugh. "As an ER doctor, I've seen my share of bizarre injuries," she began. "But I can't say that I've ever treated a half-naked, jam-covered man with glass shards protruding out of his, er, buttocks." Isabelle looked up at Angela, an expression of awe and surprise on her face. "I had no idea that you had this wild side to you, Angela."

"Aw come on Doc, put me out of my misery here, will ya? I'm dyin' here."

Angela wanted to defend herself, because she hadn't done anything bizarre. Nothing at all. She'd only smeared jam and licked it off her boyfriend. The events that'd followed had been more Tony's doing than her own. And really, for a couple madly in love, who had somehow managed to sublimate their physical desire for seven years, they were _mostly_ in control of their urges. Angela was sick of it—she wanted to go away with Tony every single weekend. She wanted to make love with him in her own bed, then fall asleep together. She wanted to wake up next to him and snuggle up close, make love before breakfast, take a shared shower …"

"I suggest you get dark ones," Isabelle was saying. "Angela? Do you have dark towels?"

"What?"

"She's out of it. I'll get them," Mona said to Isabelle. She turned to her daughter, "Perhaps you'd better sit down, dear. You look dazed."

Isabelle got to work. She secured old, dark towels beneath Tony's bottom half and pried the jagged glass pieces from his posterior. Then, she pulled down his pants and cleaned the wounds. "Sorry, that's going to sting," she warned him after he'd already screamed. "I need to stitch you up now. That's going to hurt even more. Sorry Tony."

Tony gritted his teeth and tried not to cry out; it wasn't manly. Neither was it manly having his naked behind exposed to three women, even if one of them was a doctor. He'd seen Mona smirk at the sight of his bum and vowed he'd get revenge on her for all of her teasing. "Angela, hold my hand," he called to her when the first stitch went in.

"Oh, my poor baby," she cooed to him. She held his sweaty palm in hers and placed kisses on his damp forehead. "It's okay, Sweetie. You're doing just fine."

Twelve stiches later and Isabelle was done. "You'll need to avoid sitting down for a while," she told him. "I can bring you a donut ring to sit on … it's like a child's pool toy and you sit in the hole. We use it for patients who've had hemorrhoid surgery," she added, straight faced.

Mona let out a snort of laughter. "That's what we'll tell people, that Tony has hemorrhoids, ha, ha ha!"

"Mother, enough!"

Isabelle observed the couple before her; they displayed such tenderness toward each other, and she smiled. "You know, it's a funny thing … the two of you brought Paul and me together, but what you don't know is that Paul and I were trying to get _you two_ together on our wedding day. Best man, matron of honor … it was so perfect. We'd always known, always, that you guys belonged together."

"On your wedding day, huh?" Tony said. "That's when Angela met Geoffrey with a G."

"An unforeseen event. But honestly, you two were already so well suited and obviously in love, even back then. I didn't expect Geoff to make a move on Angela like that."

"Yes, well, if it hadn't been for Ginger and Fred, perhaps Tony wouldn't have pushed me in Geoffrey's direction," Angela said, eyes downcast. She was still sad about the lost years. She had been ready to be with Tony in 1986, only he hadn't.

"Oh geez, not Fred and Ginger again," Tony whined. "It was too soon for us, Angela. Yeah, I was in love with you, but I hadn't even started college yet. Wanting to be with you made me try harder, strive to be a better man."

"Oh Tony."

"Oh Angela."

"I love you so much."

"Come 'ere," Tony gently pulled her down to kiss her.

"I recommend that you avoid any, um, strenuous activities for a few days," Isabelle warned them.

Tony and Angela looked at each other in despair. "How many days?" they asked Isabelle in unison.

"Three ought to do it. I'll come back and check you out. Well, good night."

XXXX

Three days later, Tony and Angela sent Jonathan to the movies, told Sam they'd be out, and locked all the doors.

As for Mona, she had to clean the mess in the kitchen all by herself, because Tony was avoiding strenuous activities and Angela, well Angela needed to nurse her injured boyfriend back to health.

P.S. Angela never did need to replace her vibrator.

_**A/N: I hope you liked my Awkward Moments Series. Next on my list is to finish "Family". **_


End file.
